


Somewhere Close to Nowhere

by orphan_account



Series: Somewhere Close to Nowhere [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Ghost Hunting, M/M, Paranormal, Spooky!!!, Top!Blaine, bottom!kirt, psychics!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Clairvoyance, or being “psychic” has been a blessing and a curse rolled into one for Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson. With Blaine accompanying Kurt on a case that sounds like all things paranormal, (despite his objections) will they be able to put aside their differences and discover who is behind the haunting of Ashland Ranch?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Somewhere Close to Nowhere [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984441
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	Somewhere Close to Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy!!!

SOMEWHERE CLOSE TO NOWHERE  
.  
“I’m convinced no one in history has ever driven this slow before,” Kurt remarked, glancing over at the speedometer. He was unsurprised to find they were going five miles per hour under the speed limit.

There was nothing but the rental car and the open road in front of them, no traffic or hazards in sight. Just the rolling hills of the Appalachian mountains and the occasional cluster of cows in the distance, grazing. There was no reason to drive so slowly.

Blaine gripped the steering wheel tighter but didn’t respond, fingers turning white. This was the fourth time Kurt pointed out how slow he was driving, and he had yet to receive a response, aside from the way he clenched his teeth, which made the cut of his jaw even more defined. Not that Kurt was looking.

The slow speed probably had something to do with the fact that the car itself was ancient and rickety, as if it was considering falling apart at any moment. Kurt had stared at the worker at the rental place for a long moment before accepting the keys. He was pretty sure rental cars were supposed to be new and nicer than cars people normally drove, but apparently that wasn’t the case in Tennessee.

Not that Kurt knew anything about Tennessee, except for the fact that they sometimes had ghost activity and needed help from people like him.  
“Why’re you acting so weird?” Kurt pestered, glancing at Blaine again before turning his gaze back to the scenery. The mountains were pretty, but it was a bit concerning being out here in the middle of nowhere with a rickety rental car and no cell service.

“Not acting weird.”

“You are, though. You were all blushy when we started driving and now you look like someone insulted your mother.”

It was true; when Blaine slipped into the driver’s side approximately four hours ago when they were still in Nashville, his cheeks were rosy pink and he looked a little flustered. Kurt had no idea why he was acting like that after loading their luggage into their trunk.

It was typical Blaine behavior, for the most part at least since he always acted a little strange, but the details were piling on top of each other and making it more apparent than normal.

“I liked it better when you were meditating. Much quieter when you shut up for once.” Kurt rolled his eyes and kicked his feet up on the dashboard. He had meditated earlier to recollect his mind in preparation of all the psychic work he was going to have to do for the next few days. It could be exhausting, and he needed to begin on a clean slate every time he picked up a new case. Otherwise, all of the premonitions and mental maps blurred together in a muddled mixture of handfuls of psychic visions that had nothing to do with each other.

If Blaine wanted him to be quiet, he was going to be the exact opposite. They both knew that was how he operated.

“You know, no one asked you to come with me. This is my case.”

“Yeah, and then you’d have no one to drive your ass from Nashville to Sweetwater and indulge all  
of your cravings for gas station snacks.”

“If I was driving I’d be able to stop at any gas station I wanted,” Kurt retorted, fiddling with the glove compartment. He couldn’t get it open no matter how hard he pulled on the handle. There probably wasn’t anything interesting inside but that didn’t stop him from being curious.  
It was always fun to pick up random objects and see what kind of visions he could squeeze out of them. It was a great psychic exercise, made even greater by the fact that Blaine absolutely loathed when Kurt did it.

“If you were driving, you’d still be stuck at the airport because you don’t know how to drive. Also, we’ve definitely already established why I’m coming with you.”

They had. Blaine was staying with Kurt at Ashland ranch for the foreseeable future for the sake of keeping him out of trouble. Or something like that.

“Did you know that in Tennessee it’s illegal to catch fish with a lasso?” Aside from mumbling what the fuck under his breath, Blaine didn’t respond.

...  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
“Well isn’t this just dandy,” Kurt said dryly, adding a smile for the sake of it.

It didn’t make any difference because Blaine wasn’t even looking at him. He was too busy twisting the keys in the ignition repeatedly. Each time rewarded nothing but a dissatisfying click.  
“How far away are we?” Kurt wondered, unclicking his seatbelt.

“Like, five miles. Fuck.”

Interesting. They both got out of the old car at the same time. While Blaine went around to open the hood, Kurt stood off to the side and stretched his limbs. He was pretty stiff after sitting in a cramped space for so long.

He raised his arms over his head and watched Blaine lean over the open hood, fiddling with something. Blaine cussed when he touched a hot piece of metal, drawing his hand back with a hiss.

“Fuck. We have to wait for it to cool down before I try to fix it.”

“Alright.”

There was a beat of silence. When Kurt glanced over at Blaine, he was met with a face of mild curiosity. Blaine looked kind of stupid standing there, vaguely dumbfounded in front of the background of Appalachian mountains, the cows in the distance.

“Really? You’re not gonna complain about the fact that we have to wait?” Blaine wondered.  
“Don’t act like I complain about everything. Besides, I saw this coming.”  
“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did! Remember how I said I had a vision about our drive going horribly? I definitely said that!”

“You didn’t see anything, you were just being an asshole. You only said that so I would stop and buy you a milkshake.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still, “You don’t get to decide what I did and did not see.”

“Whatever. I can’t believe neither of us foretold this. Two clairvoyants and we can’t predict our rental car breaking down.”

“Psychics,” Kurt corrected. “We’re psychics.” He knew Blaine hated the term, and only ever called himself a clairvoyant even though both words meant the same thing. So Kurt made sure to say psychic as often as possible.

Blaine grimaced. “God, you’re so annoying.”  
Kurt ignored him in favor of sitting on the grass on the side of the road. They had a nice view of the mountains from here, since they were essentially at the lowest point and the land rose up all around them. On the drive here, they passed countless farms in the hills, each separated by a vast distance. The chance that there was any sort of human life between their broken down car and Ashland ranch was very, very small.

Still, Kurt could only hope for a nice little cottage with a landline and a working bathroom somewhere between here and their destination.  
As Blaine got to work trying to fix the car, Kurt flopped back on the grass. He held his phone up in the air, wondering if he could get service.  
Eventually he gave up and closed his eyes, deciding to search the other realm for a bit because he was bored. Given the lack of human life around here, there wasn’t much going on in the spirit world. It seemed everyone who passed away here passed away peacefully.  
That was comforting, at least. If he died right here and now, he probably wouldn’t come back to haunt this little piece of land. At least, given the odds.

It wasn’t until Blaine grabbed him on the wrist that Kurt finally came back to the physical plane of existence. Begrudgingly so.

“Why do you always have to do that?”

“Because you’re stupid and reckless, and you love just throwing your soul into the other realm for the sole reason of pissing me off,” Blaine responded, keeping his fingers wrapped around Kurt’ wrist. Physical touch tended to mess up his concentration, subsequently grounding him in the real world. Blaine knew that.

He was always going on and on about Kurt just carelessly throwing his soul into the void. One day that little silver thread keeping your soul attached to your body is gonna snap , he always warned. And you’re gonna turn into a vegetable. Also known as, lost in the other realm without a body to go back to. It was a valid concern, but unlike Blaine, Kurt wasn’t too worried. He considered himself to be an expert at astral projection.

“Did you fix the car?”

“No.”

“So what now?”

“We’re gonna have to leg it.”

Kurt squinted up at Blaine’s silhouette, backlit by the bright Tennessee sun. His shirt was clinging to his skin, damp with sweat, and his hair fluttered in the breeze. The expression on his face said he wasn’t joking.

Kurt realized he just wasted the perfect opportunity to sit back and watch an attractive man sweat over trying to fix a car. The entire time he was lying back with his eyes closed, trying to see ghosts, and he could’ve been admiring the view.

“I’d rather die,” Kurt said.

“Don’t do that. I already have enough crabby ghosts to deal with. Let’s go.”

They began walking down the road, in the direction they were headed before the rental car decided it’d had enough. Kurt was still dressed in his traveling clothes, which included sweats and a t- shirt, all of which felt too hot in the June weather. Since he grew up in Wisconsin, he wasn’t used to it being so warm this early in the summer. It was annoying.

“So we should probably talk more about the case,” Blaine said eventually. The stretch of road ahead of them seemed endless.

“We’ve already discussed everything.” It was true. It only took about twenty minutes to talk through everything they knew about the mess they were getting themselves into.

They didn’t know much at all, except for the fact that Ashland ranch was haunted and the sheriff couldn’t do anything about it because there wasn’t any evidence, so he tried to drop the case. Well, really he never wanted it in the first place. But the man who owned the ranch kept badgering him, not to mention the rest of the department, until he finally stooped low enough to call Kurt.

“I mean, formulate a plan and figure out where we’re going to start.”

Kurt exaggerated a shiver for Blaine’s sake. He hated planning ahead. Absolutely loathed it. Planning ruined everything about his abilities and his character in general. It went against the core  
of his being, which was based in spontaneity.  
Blaine called it recklessness, but Kurt called it intuition.

“How about we see the property first and then go from there.” 

Not a question. Blaine still answered it as if it was one. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know you don’t, but this is my case,” he enunciated slowly. “Not yours. You’re just here to drive me around. And now that the car died, you’re off the hook. You can go run away to the mountains and live like a monk like I know you want to do so badly.”

“Kurt.”

“We’re gonna go there, check out the property, and go from there. That’s the plan.” “That’s literally not a plan!”

The plan is to have no plan, Kurt thought, but he didn’t say it because he could tell Blaine was one snarky comment away from snapping at him. Besides, he was pretty smug because he knew he was going to get his way. Kurt had a knack for many things, but one of his most prized talents was the ability to derail all of Blaine’s plans without even trying.

Blaine could plan and prepare all he wanted. He could create an elaborate schedule for what visions to search for and when. He could write notes in his stupid day-planner and obsess over all the lists, flow charts, and diagrams his little heart wanted. That didn’t mean Kurt had to follow anything he said.

Throughout the walk, Blaine talked strategy and methodology, and Kurt, for the most part, zoned out. He got distracted thinking about Blaine’s too big hands which he gestured with too often, and his thoughts were derailed from there, so it really wasn’t his fault that he didn’t hear a single thing Blaine said.

After about three miles, when they rounded a sharp curve in the road, a house appeared in the distance.

“Is that the ranch?”

“I don’t think so. We still have about two miles to go.”

“Maybe they have a phone line. Or a working car.”

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to conjure a vision. It didn’t work like that, really; he couldn’t force himself to have a premonition. Or a retrocognition, for that matter.

For the most part, premonitions happened out of the blue and he couldn’t control them, but they were usually relating to important matters.

Usually.

Retrocognitions were slightly different, because seeing what had already happened in the past was, in a way, less complicated than foretelling the future. Still, retrocognitions required a high amount of concentration and energy, and they were fairly difficult to visualize unless he was touching an object that could help him search through the past for the memory he wanted.  
The psychic abilities he had the most control over were astral projection and distal mapping. Astral projection was when he detached his soul from his body and traveled through the spirit realm, like a fucked up form of dissociation.

Distal mapping was a bit different, when he latched his mind onto an object out of the physical vicinity that he knew existed, and he could see the environment that surrounded it and map out the geography and location of the object.

It was one of his more useful psychic abilities, considering he lost his keys about once a week. Thanks to distal mapping, he could always figure out where they were.

When they got closer to the house, Kurt stayed on the road while Blaine walked up the crumbling path to get to the front door. Blaine was always better at talking to strangers, the charismatic bastard.

Kurt stared at the little house trying to figure out why he had a weird feeling in his gut. He wasn’t sure if it was a product of psychic intuition or the amount of roadtrip snacks he’d consumed in the past three hours. But then it dawned on him, and he could tell it dawned on Blaine at the same time too. There was a man sitting on the porch, holding a shotgun.

“Christ,” Kurt muttered to himself. He watched Blaine only falter a little before he continued walking up the stairs to the porch.

The man was still cleaning his shotgun and staring at Blaine with a dead expression. Leering. Kurt could feel the tension even from his spot on the road.

Fuck. As much as Blaine got under his skin sometimes, he couldn’t just let this Tennessee man with a shotgun murder him in cold blood.  
He hustled up to the porch and stood a pace behind Blaine. There was a heavy moment of silence. Kurt felt a flash of intuitive terror and his hand shot out to clutch the back of Blaine’s t-shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. He tugged a little, as if to say, Let’s get out of here. We have to go.

If Blaine noticed the motion, he didn’t let on. He said something to the man and Kurt’ mind was a mess of nerves so he barely heard any of it.

“Ashland ranch?” the man with the shotgun asked, his hands stilling from where he’d previously been polishing the shiny metal. “Now why in the hell would you want to go there?”

“We’re here on business,” Blaine answered easily. His voice was a bit stronger than usual. He was good at reading situations, Kurt had to admit, and he knew when to change the tone of his voice to be taken seriously. He was good at getting people to take him seriously.  
Kurt, on the other hand…

“Surprised you even turned onto this road,” the man muttered, looking back to his gun.  
Kurt tugged harder on the back of Blaine’s shirt. He had a bad feeling about this.

Blaine ignored him. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Most folks around here go out of their way to avoid that ranch. Won’t even go near the road it’s on.”

Huh. Blaine shared a sideways glance with Kurt. “Why’s that?”

“Best not to ask too many questions.”  
Kurt tugged even harder. He didn’t need to use his psychic abilities to recognize a warning when  
he heard one. He wasn’t any stranger to the horror of small towns and old lands rooted in decay, and this wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Neither would it be the first time it ended badly.

Blaine still didn’t head Kurt’ urgent tugging. He asked to borrow the landline and the man laughed in his face.

“You’re crazy if you think anyone out here even has a phone, let alone one that works.”

Even after that, Blaine didn’t give up, like a sane person would do. He asked if they could get a ride to the ranch, at the very least. This question also awarded a round of sarcastic laughter and another you’re crazy if statement. This one happened to be you’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere near that god-damned property.  
They were lingering now. Kurt really wanted to leave but Blaine was rooted to the spot, and Kurt wasn’t heartless enough to leave him behind. As much as he wanted to go running back to the road. He had a really bad feeling about this place.

“We’re investigating some peculiar activity at the ranch, actually,” Blaine said, in an effort to keep the conversation going. It was clear he was keen on digging for more details from this man. Kurt was fairly certain they weren’t going to get anything more than a doomy warning. “But we haven’t been able to find many records on the past owners. It seems like someone wanted to cover up whatever happened there.”

“All the death that hangs over that place,” the man muttered, not making sense. He tapped his fingers against the shotgun as if to remind them it was there. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to have any reservations about using it, either. “Can’t help but wonder if the owners are misfortunate fools, or just addicted to the sound of a spade taking a bite of clay.”

Blaine opened his mouth to say something but the man cut him off.

“No matter what you think you can do, that evil ain’t gonna go away. It’s rooted in the dirt.”  
Alright, that was definitely enough. Kurt yanked on Blaine’s shirt with enough force to finally snap him out of his concentration. He relaxed his shoulders a bit, as if coming back to himself, and looked over at Kurt.

“Guess we should get going, then.”

The man didn’t say anything, but continued polishing the barrel of his shotgun. They walked quickly down the crumbling path, desperate to get back to the road. Even then they stayed silent, until they were out of sight of the house.

The sun was still high in the cloudless sky, bright and beating down on them. It should’ve been a good omen, but the heat was so stifling it felt forbidding. Sweat dripped down his neck and back, dampening his shirt, and he would’ve pulled it off if it wouldn’t have left him so unprotected.

Death hanging over that place, misfortunate fools, spade taking a bite of clay. That evil, rooted in the dirt.

“Well that was disturbing.”

“You could say that again.”

...

Ashland ranch consisted of four hundred acres of land tucked into the mountains of Tennessee. According to the rudimentary map the sheriff had provided, only part of the property was in the valley, the rest ruled by forests and steep inclines.

The valley part used to be cultivated, but by now the farming practices had long since diminished, leaving empty fields behind. It looked like a wasteland.

Kurt and Blaine stopped and stood halfway to the house, an unconscious agreement between the two of them. They were quiet.

The house was old and decaying, a sense of malaise clinging to it in a way that worried Kurt. The wood was rickety and lopsided, decomposing right in front of their very eyes. They hadn’t been able to find the year the house was built, but the estimation was somewhere during the mid to late nineteenth century.

This doesn’t feel right, Kurt thought. Something is wrong here. He didn’t say it out loud because there was no use, but he knew Blaine was thinking it too. Neither of them needed to be psychic to feel how fucked up the atmosphere was.

They fought over who had to knock on the door. Sometimes touching objects, especially ones that had laid dormant for a long time, could bring unexpected and often painful visions.

Blaine lost, and had to knock on the door. He did so with a grimace on his face, but there ended up not being a vision attached to the door, and Kurt watched as his shoulders heaved with relief.

No one answered. They stood on the front porch for at least ten minutes before they agreed to wander around back to the barn. Which was where they found Tex, the man they were looking for. The owner of the property.

Well, more like Tex found them. A voice sounded out behind them and they both jumped.

Kurt resisted the reflex to put his hand over his racing heart, but he couldn’t say the same for Blaine.

“For psychics, you all sure are jumpy.”

You came out of fucking nowhere, Kurt snarked internally. He prided himself on his self-control, though. Most of the time.

“Just caught us off guard is all,” Blaine drawled, and was it possible he sounded more southern than he should’ve, considering he grew up in California? Kurt rolled his eyes at the way he was playing up the part of a country boy or whatever. Blaine would never fit in here and they both knew it.

Tex said he was doing work on the barn, so they followed him over there, their shoes squelching in the mud. Wearing boots would’ve been a good idea.

Tex was doing something with planks of wood that Kurt didn’t understand. As he worked, he told them what had been going on lately and why Kurt had even been called here in the first place.

It was a fairly standard ghost story. Tex couldn’t resist buying the property because it was an offer he couldn’t refuse, the price so low there had to be a catch. Turns out the house had all this bad history to it that no one ever talked about, and the realtor hid as best as she could.

Tex didn’t know much about the previous owners, except that they were the ones to build the house. It was a big family, a husband and wife and a whole hoard of daughters.

That was all the information he had. It didn’t seem so sinister. Which is why he didn’t think much when he started noticing things.

“Things like what?” Blaine pressed, leaning against the side of the barn with one leg crossed over the other. He was wearing boots with his jeans tucked in, and the way he was leaning made him look like he had any idea of how to be a Tennessee ranch owner. Kurt glowered at him. Blaine could be so ridiculous sometimes.

“Just little things. Misplacing things, and having them pop up somewhere else, in a strange position.”

“Huh. How so?”

“Lost my keys to the tractor a few weeks back, couldn’t find ‘em anywhere. Then one day I go down for breakfast and where do I find ‘em? On the kitchen table.”

That didn’t seem too out of the ordinary.

“Standing upright. Just balancing like that.”

Blaine and Kurt shared a look. That was more like it.

“Can we see these keys?”

“Got ‘em right here,” Tex said, pulling them out of his back pocket and offering them to Kurt.

Before Kurt could reach out to take them, Blaine swooped in and grabbed the keys using the hem of his shirt to cover his hand. Kurt glared at him, sending daggers his way, even though Blaine wasn’t looking back at him.

Tex told them more as he continued working on the wooden planks. He explained the pattern of objects going missing, and then turning up in unlikely places and unlikely positions. Sometimes the horses would spook in the middle of the night, for no reason at all. The burner in the kitchen would turn on and catch flame when no one was around it, and Tex would have to go over to the stove and manually shut it off. Sometimes he heard footsteps coming up the stairs at night, but when he would check the hall, no one was there.

“These footsteps,” Kurt said quietly. “How would you describe them?”

“They sound like someone wearing boots going up the stairs. A grown man. Not a child. They happen at the same time in the night, too. Wake me up at two o’clock in the morning.”

“Exactly two?”

“No. After two.”

“Next time it happens, try to remember the exact time,” Blaine suggested. “Might help us figure out what’s going on.”

“Next time it happens?” Tex laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll see. You’ll hear them too, tonight.”

...

Blaine had a habit of making people fall in love with him and Kurt was pretty sure the girl who was showing them around the property was already there. Not that Kurt could blame her.

It was annoying, for the most part, that everyone loved Blaine. He was talkative, and he tended to use his clairvoyance as a party trick to wow people. Or woo them. There was nothing else like a psychic telling you he could see your future together, before you even knew each other.

They trailed behind Jessy as she led them through the barn and then the main house. While the barn had a warm, comforting aura to it, the house was completely different. It was decaying, inside and out. The first floor had seen a fair amount of renovations but the upstairs was original to the first owners and that much was obvious.

“And this is your room. There’s only one guest room.” She didn’t even pretend to apologize for it. “Extra blankets are in the closet if one of you decides to sleep on the floor.”

Kurt peered in through the doorway and saw the ghastly curtains, the old wardrobe, the twin bed in the corner.

Unlike Kurt, Blaine didn’t seem surprised or bothered by the fact that there was only one bed. Instead, he nodded resolutely and asked, “And there’s only one bathroom in the house?”

“Right. Just down the hall. The shower is being renovated though, so it’s out of commission.”

There was a beat of silence, before, “Oh.” Finally there was a hint of concern in Blaine’s voice.  
Of course it was about the fucking shower, or lack thereof. Kurt had known Blaine long enough to know that he took lengthy and frankly unnecessary showers. Similar to Kurt having a complex skincare routine that involved more than one moisturizer, whatever he did with his hair was just obnoxious. Kurt made fun of him for it every chance he got.

“We’ve been washing by the side of the house. There’s a hose, bucket, and clothesline. I’m sure you boys can handle it for a few days.”

Hah. Kurt would be horrified if he was here by himself, but seeing Blaine’s horror made him forget his own problems for the sake of being smug about the way Blaine looked like he was regretting forcing Kurt to let him come with him.

It was only yesterday when Kurt got the call. The sheriff wanted him on the next flight to Nashville and Kurt would’ve made it without a hitch—except it happened to be the one night he and Blaine had dinner to debrief each other on the shit they were going through at the current moment.

Blaine had suggested a monthly dinner date only a few weeks after they first met and Kurt had put up a fight because he didn’t need someone to check up on him and make sure he was doing okay like a kid left alone with the house for the first time. Blaine acted like Kurt couldn’t handle his psychic abilities, like he needed guidance, like he needed mentorship.

Which may or may not have been true, but Kurt certainly didn’t need Blaine telling him what to do or how to live his life.

Kurt shivered, thinking back to their dinner last night and how Blaine knew the call was coming, because he had a vision about it, and that’s why he insisted they meet up on Wednesday night instead of their usual Thursday. Because he knew Kurt was going to get a call asking him to investigate paranormal activity at a ranch in Tennessee, and he knew he was going to want to go with Kurt to protect him.

If Kurt could get away with elbowing Blaine in the stomach right now, he would. He was still pissed off that Blaine managed to force himself onto this trip. It wasn’t even his case.

“What about the room at the end of the hall?” Blaine asked, since all of the rooms had been pointed out except that one. Kurt noticed a strange lock near the victorian door handle. An external lock.

“It’s been locked ever since Tex bought the property. We can’t get inside.”

Warning bells went off in Kurt mind, and he stared down the hall at the old door which seemed no more menacing than the rest. “And you don’t know what’s inside?”

“Just a bedroom, I guess.”

“Think we could check it out?”

“You’ll have to ask Tex.”

Jessie finished the tour and left them to get settled in, since she had work to do in the barn. Since their bags were still in the car, they didn’t have anything to unpack.

As soon as they stepped inside the guest room again, Kurt wrapped his fingers around the doorframe to keep himself upright. An image flashed in his mind, a moment trapped in time.  
Lying in bed, face down, biting the pillow. Bare skin warm and damp with sweat. Hands on the bend of his knees, pressing him into the mattress.  
The resonance of the house creaking in the wind, melodic in a way, the windows shaking as his body quivered and squirmed. Teeth grazing the backs of his thighs, travelling upward...  
He snapped back to reality like a cord pulling taught when Blaine poked his stomach.

“Okay?” he asked, brows furrowing. Standing in the doorway not knowing that Kurt just had a vision about someone eating him out, of all things. “What was it?”

“Nothing,” Kurt muttered hastily, resisting the urge to cover his burning face with his palms. That would make it so much more obvious and he couldn’t have Blaine questioning him about something like this. He was mortified. “Just, unrelated to the case.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” He looked over at the twin bed in the corner of the room and recognized the sheets from his vision. He approached the bed to touch them. They felt the same as in his vision. Soft under his skin.

Visions could be hard to discern sometimes, whether they were retrocognitions or precognitions. Telling a story of the past or predicting the future. Most of the time, in Kurt’ visions, he was in the body of someone else, seeing from their eyes. Rarely was he in his own body. His life wasn’t important or grave enough to warrant unexpected visions about himself.

So it was easy, to some extent, to write this one off as something that happened to someone else, or would happen to someone else in the future. But he was staring at the bed in his vision. Feeling the soft, worn sheets beneath his fingers.

He turned back around to face Blaine, and felt his face heat up even more.

“You’ve been acting strange,” Blaine said, a reflection of what Kurt told him earlier.

“So have you,” Kurt deflected.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Nope. He was not in the mood to deal with this. Not in the mood to deal with overbearing, protective Blaine. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid.

“Shut up, I’m fine. And I’m taking the bed.” 

“What? No.”

If Kurt had his bag with him he would throw it onto the bed as a way to mark it as his. But his bag was trapped in the trunk of an old, broken-down car five miles away. Which meant...

Blaine saw Kurt come to the same realization as him at the exact same time.

They both dove for the bed in synchronicity. Limbs flailed as they fought for territory, each trying to shove the other off the mattress. Kurt got an elbow in his stomach for his troubles as they rolled around, grunting.

He was sure he would’ve won, if he didn’t have a vision right then and there in the middle of their fight. It made his body go lax, an image of flames licking decaying wood. The crackling of fire that surrounded him. The terror of burning alive.  
He came back to lucidity with labored breathing, a racing heart, and Blaine hovering over him. It took a second for him to realize his hands were pinned above his head. Blaine’s expression was quickly morphing from smug victory to confusion.

Kurt squirmed, trying to escape. He couldn’t deal with the closeness, the way minty, humid breath danced over his face and he could feel the heat radiating off of Blaine’s body. Their fingers were laced together, Blaine’s big palms pressing his own into the pillow.

“What’s wrong? What was it?” Blaine asked, as if he forgot his entire body was trapping Kurt’ to a bed.

He brought his knee up in one swift motion and before he knew it, his wrists were released and Blaine rolled over, groaning in pain.  
“What the fuck, you heathen- ”

Kurt sat up and stared at the wall. “We need the historical records of this property.”

There was a pause. “We don’t have clearance.”

“I don’t care. Either we get the documents, or we figure it all out on our own. We just can’t go  
through this without knowing this house fucking burned down at one point.”

“Wait, what?”

He looked back over at Blaine who was still curled up, one hand cupped over his crotch protectively. A curl flopped forward and he made no move to brush it away, still breathing heavily from their fight.

“We need to talk to Tex.”

“You’re sure you don’t know anything.”  
...

Tex didn’t respond, but each thud of the hammer against the nail was met with more force than the last.

“And there aren’t any records?”

“I don’t know nothing except what’s here. The property, the house. The barn is new, wasn’t here before we put it up.”

“Four hundred acres of land,” Kurt mused, resting against the worn wood. His shoes were sinking into the mud and in that moment he understood the necessity of boots. “There has to be something here.”

“There’s a graveyard in a clearing in the forest. That’s all I know.” 

“On the property?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you’ve been there before?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Kurt hissed, suddenly pissed off. He wasn’t going to get to the bottom of anything paranormal if he didn’t have a full grasp on the situation.

A flash of heat passed through him but it was instantly interrupted by the icy stare Blaine shot him, telling him he was being rude. Kurt didn’t give a fuck about being rude—he was pissed Tex had kept this from them for so long.

“Can you point us in the correct direction, please?” Blaine asked politely.

Kurt zoned out as Tex relayed directions to get to the cemetery. His mind was still reeling from the two visions he’d had earlier: the one about the fire, about burning alive, and the other one... He didn’t even want to think about it, about what it meant. Not that it meant anything. And not that it had anything to do with the case, either.

Stumbling through the forest wasn’t fun. Blaine had an awful sense of direction and they got so lost, Kurt had to close his eyes and use distal mapping to get them to the cemetery. He and Blaine agreed they would map the rest of the property tonight, to see if there was something else Tex wasn’t telling them.

The cemetery was tucked away in the mountain, swathed in forestland, a little meadow on the hill. Kurt could feel the dark energy before he even saw the small, eroded headstones popping out of the ground. The soil was fertile from bodies buried without caskets. Wildflowers bloomed bright yellow and white, lining the meadow and the graves.  
“Well shit,” Blaine muttered, taking in the same sight as Kurt.

“You shouldn’t curse in front of the dead.” He crouched down behind one of the stones, careful not to step over the bodies, although it was difficult to tell where they were. “Where do you wanna start?”

Blaine shook his head, kneeling beside Kurt and brushing his curls out of his face. When they first met, his hair was much longer, almost down to his shoulders. But one day he had a premonition and decided to cut it, right then and there. He never told Kurt what he saw that made him want to cut it, and Kurt never asked.

“I can’t read anything on these. Can you?”

Kurt ran his fingers over the stone, relieved to find it didn’t force him into a vision. “No.” They stared at each other for a second, as if deciding.

“We can try scrying,” Kurt offered. Scrying technically required looking into a reflective surface to see the future, but Kurt liked to use the term for any time when he got information from an object.  
“We can, but... It’ll help to have their names. It’ll be safer that way too. So we know what we’re getting ourselves into.”  
“Right.”

Blaine was kneeling very close to him. Just like when they were fighting over the bed, he smelled like the day’s sweat mixed with flowery laundry detergent and minty gum. Not to mention the soft earth that surrounded them, the smell of mud and grass and weathered gravestones.

“If I go back to the house to get paper and charcoal,” Blaine said slowly, “Will you wait for me to get back before you do anything?”

“Sure,” Kurt lied.

“Alright.” He seemed skeptical but not enough to force Kurt to accompany him all the way back to the house. As if he had to babysit him. “I’m serious, Kurt.”

“I know, Blaine,” Kurt mocked, mostly for the sake of ignoring the way Blaine saying his name out loud made his skin tingle. He attributed it to the fact that Blaine was another clairvoyant, which made things weird between them, but even then he knew he was fooling himself.

Blaine eyed him warily one last time before leaving the meadow and heading in the vague direction of the house. As hard as he tried to appear graceful, he was pretty clumsy, retreating into the forest and stumbling over tree roots, flipping Kurt off when he laughed at him.

Kurt folded his arms over his chest and leant against a tombstone, waiting for Blaine to be out of  
sight before he could get started. He figured he could probably scry at least three stones before Blaine made his way back to the cemetery. Maybe more, if Blaine fucked up and got himself lost, which was entirely possible.

For some reason he was reminded of the day they first met. As much as Kurt tried, he could never forget what happened. It was over three years ago, when Kurt had just been getting a handle on his psychic abilities.

He was working on one of his first cases, in Salem, Massachusetts, dealing with some things that were completely out of his depth of understanding. Not just ordinary hauntings by bored ghosts, the typical midwest paranormalities, but dark witchcraft and hellish demons. Things that made him sick to his very core.

He’d been scouring the other realm for answers. There were none. The longer his soul was beyond the veil, away from his body, the more jaded he became. Any sense of belonging he felt in the world atrophied each moment he passed completely alone with his fucked up skills.

Clairvoyance wasn’t a gift. It had never been a gift to him. It was always something that made him different, something that made him a freak. Made him the kid who saw things that weren’t there. The kid who talked to ghosts and predicted the future in gruesome detail, who saw all the evil in the world and had no choice but to carry it within himself because there was nowhere to fucking put it down.

He had never met anyone like him before. Of course he had heard of other psychics, but all the ones he sought out turned out to be fakes. Scammers and liars, or delusional. He knew he wasn’t the only real one but sometimes it felt like it, sometimes it was so lonely it felt like he was being swallowed whole.

And then he met Blaine. Kurt rolled his eyes at himself because he was being ridiculous, sitting here in a cemetery thinking about the first time he met another clairvoyant. Thinking about how seeing Blaine in the other realm, the warm glow around his body that said he was human and not just another spirit, felt like finding someone who was just as fucked up as he was. Someone who understood .

Kurt pushed the thoughts from his head because as nice as it was to finally meet another psychic, Blaine was more trouble than he was worth. He didn’t like the way Kurt operated because he thought it was dangerous, and they clashed over almost everything imaginable. Blaine wanted to do it one way and Kurt wanted to do it the other. They never agreed on anything procedural, even if their end goals were always the same: liberate spirits to the afterworld with as little harm as possible.  
The forest was quiet aside from the early summer breeze and there was no indication Blaine would be back anytime soon. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Kurt chose a headstone at random and placed his palm against the front, closing his eyes and concentrating.

Sometimes scrying felt like grasping at straws for even the smallest sight. It could be frustrating and unrewarding, nothing but a confusing jumble of images that made no sense at all.  
This wasn’t like this at all. Kurt hardly had to focus his attention on the grave before a flash of a vision caught in his mind like a slideshow of video clips, one playing after the other in perfect succession. Almost as if these visions were a story waiting to be found. Untouched for a century or more, covered in dust, desperate to be brushed off, to be seen.

He came back to reality an indeterminate amount of time later to the feeling of something wrapped  
around his neck, suffocating him.  
He gasped for breath before he realized it was just Blaine, tugging him into an upright position by yanking on the collar of his shirt.  
Blaine was out of breath too. It looked like he ran here, haphazardly so.

Blood was smudged on his face, his cheeks scraped by thorns, and his eyes were wild. Angry, and scared.

“I could feel you scrying from all the way back at the house, you absolute idiot. I told you to fucking wait for me.”

Kurt didn’t take well to being called names. He smacked Blaine’s hands away and backed up to put some distance between them.

Blaine always stood too close, his presence too commanding, looming over him. He wasn’t an aggressive person but he could be intimidating when he wanted to be, using his height to his advantage. Kurt hated how he had to tilt his head up just to look him in the eyes.

“Why do you always act like I’m incapable of doing anything by myself? I survived just fine my entire life without you breathing down my neck and yelling at me whenever I don’t follow the stupid protocol you’re so fucking in love with.”

“You’re so- ugh,” Blaine groaned, running a hand through his hair and tugging on the ends of it like he was holding himself back from saying something. “You’re so impatient and reckless, I’m just trying to-”

“Just trying to do what, huh? Control every single thing I do? Prove that you’re the superior clairvoyant ? Just because you follow the arbitrary rules some big-headed faker wrote in some book that commodifies freaks like us?”

“Freaks like us- Jesus christ, Kurt, shut up for once in your life! Do you hear yourself? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” Kurt retorted, folding his arms over his chest and widening his stance, demanding Blaine’s attention, his respect. “You think you’re so superior just because a barely famous fortune teller decided she wanted to mentor you for god knows what reason. You think just because you surround yourself with big-name psychics you can boss me around and tell me what to do, follow me all the way out to fucking Tennessee because you think I’m gonna fuck up my case because apparently I can’t do anything right-”

Blaine pawed at his face, smearing blood over his cheek and not even caring. He leveled Kurt with a glare that shut him right up, teeth clashing as he shut his mouth.

“I’m just trying to keep you from getting into trouble,” Blaine said slowly, showing a surprising amount of restraint. His tone of voice was cold compared to the summer breeze that blew past them, the patches of sunlight that danced with the shadows of the leaves.

It was eerie, the amount of control in his voice despite the way Kurt had just been screaming at him in hysterics.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe.” “Bullshit,” Kurt whispered, looking away.

“Why is that so hard for you to believe? Why is it so hard for you to believe there’s someone out there looking out for you?”

Kurt shook his head, feeling anger flare up in his chest. They weren’t having this conversation right now, or ever for that matter. He had the repress the urge to run back to the house and instead stepped closer to Blaine, yanking the paper out of his hands and the charcoal too.

“I hate you,” he muttered, no bite left to his words as he crouched down to one of the graves and held the paper up to it, rubbing the charcoal a bit too aggressively.

“I hate you sometimes too.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and kept working on the rubbing, until he could read all of it. Blaine was busy with his own headstone but Kurt didn’t mind interrupting him to read his out loud:  
“Isabelle Anne Thomas, 1868-1899. May she rest always at peace.”

They went through the rest of the stones, marking the names and dates to get a better sense of the Thomas family. They discovered the mother died during the birth of her fourth daughter, so the girls were almost exclusively raised by their father. All of them died young, not a single daughter living past the age of thirty-five.

The most concerning was a girl named Charlotte Thomas. 1866-1884. Only eighteen years old.  
“What about the epitaph?” Kurt asked, peering over Blaine’s shoulder at the charcoal rubbing of the tombstone.

“It says, ‘A spark at birth, a flame in life, a quiet ember in the night.’”

“There’s something below that,” Kurt pointed out, leaning in so close he bumped his chin against Blaine’s shoulder and they both flinched away from each other.

“‘Dear sweet Charlotte, please...’ Fuck, what does that say?”

“‘Please come back,’” Kurt whispered, pulling away and sitting down in the grass to stare out at the forest. A spark at birth, a flame in life, a quiet ember in the night... Dear sweet Charlotte, please come back. “I saw a fire. That’s why I said we had to talk to Tex. I saw a fire but none of the records the sheriff gave us said anything about a fire.”  
“You think that's how she died?”

“It has to be. And she’s... She’s haunting the house because she wants us to know how it really happened.”

“Because no one remembers,” Blaine added, and they stared at each other with stricken expressions mirrored on their faces. “There are no records. They were either destroyed or they never existed in the first place.”

They looked down at the rubbing again, the epitaph about fire and life taken too soon. “You need to tell me about what you saw.”

“It was hardly anything. There was so much smoke,” Kurt said, staring down at the grass and wracking his memory. “Smoke and flames and being afraid to burn alive.”

“Did you see anything to indicate the time period?”

“No, there was nothing, but- It had to be Charlotte. It had to be what happened to her. What are the odds it would’ve happened again?”  
“It could be the future,” Blaine said quietly.

“No way,” Kurt disagreed. There weren’t any objects to mark the time period which was sometimes the only way to tell if a vision was of the past or the future. But Kurt just had a gut feeling it was the past. Besides, what were the chances the same house would burn twice?

“Kurt, I- I have to tell you, before we had dinner yesterday, I had, like, seen things. That made me want to come with you.”

“Things?” Kurt asked, his curiosity getting the better of him before he could real it back in. “Actually, wait, no. Save it. I don’t want to hear you try to justify how much of a control freak you are.”

“Kurt-”

For some reason Kurt couldn’t stand the thought of hearing what Blaine had to say. His skin was crawling and he was getting a headache. He only tried scrying one headstone and as easy as the visions came to his mind, the process was exhausting and emotionally draining and he could already feel the beginning of a headache.

“I’m going back to the house. This cemetery is creeping me out.” ...

“Kurt...”

“No. There’s no fucking way you’re getting the bed. This is my case, I’m the one who’s supposed to be here, you’re the one who forced me to let you tag along.”

“You know how sore my back gets-”

“I don’t wanna hear it. You should’ve thought of that before coming here.” Kurt knew he was being bitchy but his temper had become shorter and shorter all throughout the day, having to deal with Blaine’s micromanaging and never being able to escape it.

All he wanted to do was take a nice, warm shower and relax under the spray of the water. But the shower didn’t fucking work, and if he wanted to bathe, he would have to do so with the hose outside. He couldn’t believe this was how he was living.

So instead of calming down with a long shower, he had to debate over wearing his dirty clothes to bed or wearing nothing at all. His bags were still in the trunk of the car, five miles away. He wasn’t about to fall asleep in muddy jeans.

Kurt sighed. If Blaine hadn’t insisted on coming, this never would’ve been a problem. Even if the car still broke down and he didn’t have any clothes, he would just strip naked and get in bed. It was so tempting. But with Blaine in the room, there was no way he was going to do that.

“Stop sighing,” Blaine snapped. “You’re putting me in a bad mood.”

“I blame you for everything,” Kurt grumbled right back. He yanked his shirt over his head and flung it to the foot of the bed in a heap, even though he was going to have to wear it tomorrow even if it was wrinkled. He kept his back to Blaine.  
“I know you do, and it’s annoying, because not everything is my fault.”

Kurt whipped around to glare at him but was instead met with the sight of Blaine lifting his t-shirt to remove it, each moment uncovering a new expanse of skin for Kurt to be assaulted by. It was completely indecent. He looked away so he wouldn’t have to witness Blaine’s stupid muscles from how obsessively he worked out at the gym.

“Like what you see?”

“No,” Kurt deadpanned.

Blaine laughed. “Liar.”

“Don’t sound so smug. I wasn’t even looking.”

“Yes you were.”

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Kurt threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans and threw the covers over himself, not wanting to give Blaine even a glimpse because he knew he was watching.  
“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.” “I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

As soon as Blaine opened his mouth to respond, Kurt chucked a pillow at him. It must’ve hit him in the face because he didn’t say anything after that.  
It took forever for Kurt to fall asleep, mostly because he was pretty sure he shouldn’t have been trying to fall asleep at all. He should’ve been exploring the house, setting up his equipment to catch some sort of evidence of paranormal activity and figure out what was going on. But all of his equipment was trapped in the car five miles away.  
A lot had happened in twenty-four hours and that was fucking with his head too. Just a day ago, he was sitting out on his balcony eating spaghetti as Blaine watched him a little too closely from across the table.

And then the one stupid phone call came in and ruined all of his plans to have a lazy few days off and only leave his bed for the necessities. And of course Blaine had been there to demand to come with him.

He tossed and turned in bed and tried not to pay attention to the way Blaine was doing the same on the floor. The room was cold because they had the window open, the sounds of a summer night in the mountains filtering in through the screen, crickets and frogs and owls among others.

Kurt burrowed into the blankets but they weren’t enough to keep him warm so that he could comfortably fall asleep. He debated stealing Blaine’s blankets but figured he wasn’t that cruel.  
Twenty minutes later and Blaine was snoring like a chainsaw. Kurt could’ve killed him, if Blaine wasn’t right about the fact that he would just come back as a ghost to haunt him. Ghosts were harder to get rid of than people, anyway.

And then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.  
Kurt sat upright, stiff as a board, wondering if he had just imagined it.

No, the sound was real. He looked down at Blaine’s makeshift bed on the floor and considered waking him just to be annoying. But Blaine probably wanted Kurt to wake him if anything started happening, so it would be more annoying if he let him sleep.

Kurt smirked to himself as he stepped over Blaine’s sleeping body on the floor. He was sprawled out, for the most part, just as Kurt expected: on his stomach, taking up a ton of space like the selfish bastard he was.

The pillow Kurt threw at him earlier was clutched to his chest in death grip, less cuddly and more possessive. He would probably be an awful person to share a bed with, Kurt reasoned, and then wondered why he was even thinking of what it would be like to share a bed with him in the first place.

Kurt peered out into the hallway and didn’t see anything there. He could feel the telltale cold crackling sensation in the air which hinted at the presence of the paranormal.

A spirit was probably staring him dead in the eyes but Kurt wouldn’t be able to see unless he let his soul slip into the other realm, which was always dangerous in the presence of malevolent beings. Blaine would be so pissed if he knew what Kurt was doing right now.

Throwing caution to the wind and thinking fuck it, Kurt pushed his soul out of his body and pierced it through the veil that let him see the spirit world. It was like a filter overlaying the physical word, a visible tinge that uncovered ghosts, demons, and other spirits, good and bad and everything in between.

Unlike Blaine, who liked to explore the other realm methodically, stopping every ghost he saw to interview them no matter how insignificant the spirit, Kurt preferred to go straight to the root of the problem. He didn’t like to waste time taking baby steps when there was so much work to do.  
Walking through the other realm was eerie especially when he was alone. But he’d been doing this his entire life, even before he could put a name to it.

Kurt first found out he was different the day his grandmother died. He predicted everything with startling clarity and told his mom, who thought he was making things up until they found out it was true.

After that, they locked away the memory of Kurt’ premonition and never talked about it again. Kurt ignored the visions as best as he could but he couldn’t help the way he retreated within himself, not reaching out to people anymore because he knew no one would understand. No one would listen to him if he tried to tell them. They would all just say he was crazy, delusional.

It didn’t matter. Kurt didn’t need anyone by his side to do what he was put on this earth to do. It didn’t matter that he’d been called a freak all his life because he didn’t care, he was fine with being different, he just wanted to liberate these spirits and bring them peace, and then go home to his empty apartment and not be bothered by anyone.  
That was his goal right now, too. That was all he wanted. To help the spirits here find peace, and then get the fuck out of Tennessee.

The hallway didn’t look much different on the other side of the veil, which was funny because it showed how reality could bleed into the unknown. It was empty even though Kurt could physically feel the presence of another being. They were refusing to show themselves.

While Blaine probably would’ve stayed glued to the spot trying to talk to the shy spirit and coax them into showing themselves, Kurt figured that would be a waste of time. The spirit would appear when it wanted to and Kurt had no agency over that. Instead, he was much more interested at the room at the end of the hall. The door was locked for a reason and he wanted to know why.

He couldn’t escape the pull in his gut that was drawing him closer to the door, inviting him inside. Maybe Blaine was right that this was all a trap, that the spirits were malevolent and wanted to hurt him, or anyone, really. But did it matter? If he could get to the bottom of this, and even see what was happening...

The door creaked open, nothing but darkness beyond. Shadows. A glimmer of something. Kurt stepped closer.

Which was of course when Blaine woke up, realized what Kurt was doing, and pulled him back to reality.

“You idiot ,” Kurt snapped, yanking his arm out of Blaine’s grasp. It took a second for the world to come into focus, and he found they were huddled together in the dark hallway, everything restored to its former realism, no more strange, ghostly tint. “I was so close to getting inside, they were going to show me-”

Blaine cut him off with a murderous look. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He looked like he was holding himself back from dragging Kurt out of the hallway and that’s how Kurt knew he was really mad. His anger was one thing but when he was trying so valiantly to control it that he seemed calm, on the outside at least...

“Why won’t you just let me go? What are you so afraid of? That some stupid ghost is going to possess me, or-”

“Shut up,” Blaine hissed. “Shut up, shut up.”  
On his last nerve, Kurt closed his eyes and tried to slip to the other side just to spite Blaine. Of course it didn’t work, because Blaine yanked his arm again and disrupted his concentration, keeping him tethered to the real world.

“Stop it.”

“Let go of me,” Kurt grumbled, only being able to pull his arm away because Blaine loosened his grip on his wrist. He watched Blaine flex his fingers like he hadn’t even realized he was gripping his wrist so tightly.

“Go back to bed.” Apparently he was done saying please . He looked like such an asshole with his arms folded over his chest, his t-shirt and hair mused from sleep. He must have put a shirt on before leaving the room, because of course he would be thinking of something like that in the middle of the night when there was no one to offend by half-nakedness.

“She was trying to tell me something and you fucked it up. She was going to show me.”  
There was a pause. “She?”

“Uh-huh.” Kurt peeled himself away from the wall with as much dignity as he had left, seeing as he just let Blaine corner him there in the first place. He brushed past him, not bothering to turn his shoulder. It made satisfying contact with Blaine’s chest as he stalked back to the guest room.

“Kurt...” Blaine sighed, trailing after him.  
He considered keeping his mouth shut and not telling Blaine anything about what he just discovered. Or better yet, taunting him with the information he missed out on because he was asleep.

Easily, he could’ve gotten back into bed to deal with all of this in the morning. The presence of the spirit he felt in the hallway, the way the door creaked open even though it was definitely locked, the way Blaine looked equal parts annoyed and exasperated by his antics. But he really didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, Tennessee for longer than he had to be here.  
He didn’t have his laptop with him, nor any of the documents he printed off to read whenever he could find some downtime. But the sheriff had left some historical texts the last time he was here and he had told Kurt about them over the phone while he was waiting to go through security at the airport and Blaine was pissed that Kurt wouldn’t let him listen in on the call.

Kurt had all of the documents waiting for him on his nightstand so he took them to the desk, turned on the lamp, and got to work. Meanwhile Blaine closed the door behind him, bringing them back to their little cocoon of protection. The room had a warm aura to it as if nothing could touch them in here. He wasn’t sure if it was the room itself or just the presence of another human being making him feel a lot less alone.

Blaine pulled the armchair next to him and sat down, leaning in to read over Kurt’ shoulder. Kurt tried to be annoyed by it but Blaine was radiating heat and he smelled good despite the amount of time it’d been since he last showered.

So they spent the night huddled over the desk, reading vague historical documents and trying to make sense of them. Kurt ended up with his head propped up on his palm as he told Blaine about everything he saw earlier. He didn’t want to give in so easily but there was something about the way Blaine was looking at him, not even stern anymore but just tired , that made Kurt feel too jaded to keep secrets.

“Hey, we should get to bed,” Blaine said quietly once they had discussed all the information they knew about the hauntings and the property in general. The sun was coming up and they had officially spent the entire night doing something they could’ve easily done during the day. “At least for a few hours. We have a lot to do today.”  
The sound of his voice startled Kurt because he had been lost in thought, standing in front of the window and looking out at the grassy hills and the mountains beyond, everything filtered in golden light.

“What is it? What do you see?” Blaine wondered, coming up behind him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Nothing... Nothing.” His gaze kept gravitating towards a small patch of land near the garden, and he had a feeling about it. Not exactly chills down his spine but something similar, a quiet sort of ache inside him that meant something important. He would have to go out there later and see what he could figure out for sure, but...

“You think there’s something out there,” was the conclusion Blaine came to.

Kurt wasn’t sure he should say it out loud. Especially not with the feeling of someone watching him he had all night, a pair of eyes on him, keeping track of his every move. “Um, sort of.”

He turned back around to find Blaine watching him. He didn’t look concerned, necessarily, but cautious.  
“We should go see if there’s anything there.”

“Later. You need to sleep.”

Kurt wasn’t going to fight him on that. He crawled into bed and watched Blaine get settled in on the floor. It really did look uncomfortable. He was tired enough to consider inviting Blaine to join him. Which obviously was a bit crazy.

The night had been productive and they discovered a lot. Most of what they found included rumors about the original owner of the property, the one who built the house. Apparently he was incredibly protective over his four daughters, to the point where he threatened anyone who got close to them.

Kurt wasn’t sure who the spirit he sensed in the hallway was, but he had some guesses. Not to mention the strange feeling he experienced just by looking at the grass beside the garden in the backyard. There was something there, he was sure of it.

And then the room at the end of the hall. Clearly it was important. Why else would it be locked? Why else would it have opened like it did tonight?  
Blaine didn’t want Kurt to try to get into the room because he thought it was too dangerous before they fully understood what was going on. But how were they supposed to learn about what was going on when they couldn’t get into the room that seemed so integral to all of the paranormal activity that was happening? If there was one thing Kurt learned tonight, aside from what it was like to work with Blaine when he was tired, it was that they needed to get into that room as soon as possible.  
...

“We should try to find Charlotte today,” Kurt suggested at breakfast, sliding his plate over to Blaine because he was already full.

Blaine mumbled thanks and went to town on the scrambled eggs. He always ate what Kurt didn’t finish.

“And by that I mean get into her room.”

“We’re not doing that yet,” Blaine said, taking a sip of orange juice. He tucked some of his hair behind his ear, a habit from when it was much longer, and then tapped his fingers on the table. “I know you want to get into that room but we have to at least know what we’re dealing with first. We’ve been here an entire day and haven’t seen any poltergeist activity which is pretty fishy to me.”

Pretty fishy, Kurt mocked under his breath. Blaine was so ridiculous sometimes.

“Kurt, please. That room gives me really bad feelings, okay? I just know something’s gonna happen.”

Blaine had a vision about it. Kurt knew that, because Blaine tried to tell him yesterday when they were in the cemetery. But Kurt didn’t want to hear it, because Blaine always did this. Always tried to scare him into giving in to his rules and protocol by freaking him out about the future, about what might happen if he didn’t fall in line.  
“Nothing’s set in stone,” Kurt said, repeating the same phrase he’d told Blaine over and over. He said this every time Blaine got this way over a less than optimal vision of the future.

“I know,” Blaine said slowly. “I know.”

So he wasn’t budging. Kurt decided to try another tactic. Using logic and asking nicely. Maybe even fluttering his eyelashes a little. No one had to know.

“We learned so much last night, though,” Kurt began, setting his elbow on the table and then resting his chin on his palm. Blinking up at Blaine.  
He wasn’t lying, either. They learned about the man who originally owned the property, whose name was Joseph Thomas. He was a farmer, he also raised horses to sell, and he had four daughters. That last detail was most important because while there wasn’t a lot of information to go off of, overprotectiveness of his daughters seemed to be a theme in almost everything Kurt read.

And then there were the reports of young men going missing.

Blaine didn’t show any signs of wavering, even with the way Kurt was looking at him. “Yeah, but we still don’t have any idea what’s behind that door.”  
“It’s probably nothing, though. It’s probably just a bedroom. Don’t you think?”

“Why would it be locked, then? I don’t want to take any chances,” Blaine argued.

What else are we supposed to do, then? Kurt thought bitterly, but he kept his mouth shut because he was supposed to be winning Blaine over with his sweetness right now. It didn’t seem to be working. They already explored the property and did as much research as possible last night. There was nothing else to do except break into the locked room. That much was obvious to Kurt, and for some reason Blaine didn’t seem to see it.  
Kurt looked down at the table, not meeting Blaine’s eyes. Trying to figure this out. He could change tactics a little bit. He could use certain things to his advantage, like the way Blaine always let his guard down when Kurt acquiesced to him.

“Alright, fine. We’ll do what you want today. Whatever. As long as we get our bags from the car? I really need a change of clothes.”  
What he actually needed were the lock-picking knives in Blaine’s bag, but Blaine didn’t need to know that.

A look of wary surprise filtered over Blaine’s face as he narrowed his eyes across the table at him. He wasn’t stupid, and knew Kurt was up to something, but he was hopefully too polite to point it out. Despite their monthly dinners, they didn’t know each other very well, and Kurt hardly considered them friends. Sometimes there was a weird dynamic between them where they felt like two people forced together by the circumstances rather than by choice. At least, it felt that way to Kurt. Or so he told himself.

“Okay,” Blaine said slowly, stacking the plates and setting the forks neatly on top. “I asked Tex yesterday if he could give us a ride to the car, but it turns out he doesn’t have a car. So we have to walk there-” Kurt groaned.

“-Unless you’d rather we go on horseback, in which case you should probably learn how to ride a horse before we attempt that.”

“Fuck off.”

Blaine ignored him. “Is it alright if we go at the end of the day? There are some things I wanna do first, like talk to Tex more about the property if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, fine.” Kurt wouldn’t need the pins until tonight, anyway, once Blaine was asleep. “I think I’m gonna take a shower, though. I feel disgusting.”

“Have fun with that,” Blaine laughed, no doubt thinking about the hose by the side of the house which served as a shower. Kurt was thinking about it too. He kind of felt crazy for even thinking about using it but they were going to be here for a few days and there was no way he was going to make it through half a week or more without bathing.  
Kurt flipped him off and stood up, knowing Blaine would clean off his plate for him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the vision he had yesterday when he first stepped into the guest room. It was doing his head. He really shouldn’t be thinking about Blaine of all people touching him like that...  
He left the house in a rush, desperate to get out of the small kitchen. It felt like there wasn’t enough room for both of them in there. And Blaine was so oblivious to the thoughts running through his head. Not for the first time, he was relieved neither of them were telepathic. Psychics that could read minds were the worst.

Telling the future was bad enough, but seeing inside someone else’s mind? Or having someone read into your own? Kurt couldn’t think of anything worse. And he had seen a lot of really, really bad things due to his abilities.

It had been so difficult, dealing with it all on his own. For years. Years of seeing the past and the future in visions that weren’t normal, visions other people didn’t have, and trying to decipher what it meant. For as long as he could remember, he knew he was different, but it wasn’t until he predicted his grandmother’s death and saw it in striking clarity that he finally understood his powers.

Not that understanding he was a psychic made anything better. He had always been an outcast, and realizing why he was different made it better in a few ways, but worse in a lot more. No one understood him. No one would even be able to understand him, if they even tried. And no one tried anyway. It didn’t matter.

He tried to use his clairvoyance for good. There was no way to get rid of it so he had to make the best of it. Kurt thought of himself as a bridge between two worlds. He could bring peace and clarity to those who were suffering, living people and spirits alike. That’s all that could give his life purpose. So he focused on it obsessively.  
When he met Blaine, he was in the middle of an awful case dealing with some of the most potent evil he had ever experienced, and he was going through it all alone. He was in way over his head. He should’ve passed the case onto someone else, someone who knew what they were doing, because it was draining him of motivation and confidence. Nothing went as planned. Whenever he walked through the other realm, searching for answers, he never felt more alone.

Kurt considered that to be the lowest point of his life. He didn’t sleep for days, not because he didn’t want to but because he physically couldn’t. Malevolent spirits seeped into his dreams and made it impossible for him to let his guard down without getting hurt.

He needed someone to watch his back but he didn’t have anyone who even knew what he was really doing. His family thought he was away on a business trip, thought he worked for an accounting firm or something as mundane as that. When in reality he was a few shades of exhaustion away from getting possessed. The weaker he became, the easier it was to be used as a vessel for evil.  
Blaine’s aura was warm and glowing when Kurt first came across him. He knew immediately Blaine was a living person but it took him a bit longer than he would like to admit for him to realize Blaine was a clairvoyant too, that they shared the same powers. It was a sigh of relief, finding out he wasn’t alone.  
It was challenging to communicate on the other side, but there really weren’t any words for their meeting anyway so it didn’t matter. They noticed each other at the same time and met halfway, embracing like old friends. It made Kurt uncomfortable, even now, to think that it was there bare souls touching. Because when you walked through the other realm, it was just your soul there, tethered to your body by a silver thread.  
Kurt tried not to think about how his soul found Blaine’s in the other realm. Or how he cried the first time they met in person, only a few days later. If anyone ever accused him of that, he would deny it. Luckily, Blaine was smart enough to pretend it never happened.

Kurt spent a lot of time wandering the garden before going to wash himself. The land here was trying to tell him something but all the visions were muddled and unclear. Almost as if they were being suppressed by something. He spent a lot of time by the verdant patch of grass near the garden, which he had been looking out at earlier this morning. He could hear faint voices but the words were muffled, like trying to talk around a mouthful of dirt.  
He would figure it out. Eventually. Kurt prided himself on giving voices to the spirits left to the margins. For now, he walked to the side of the house and got a decent look at the place where he was supposed to wash himself.

The grass, for the most part, was only a bit muddy. There was a clothesline set up with a few sheets that billowed in the wind, and that was the only privacy. Kurt wasn’t exactly shy about being naked, but he wasn’t really a fan of strangers who worked on the ranch seeing him like this, so he hoped no one would come over here. He would just have to be quick.

It wasn’t until he kicked off his muddy shoes and stepped barefoot into the grass that he had another unexpected vision. This one wasn’t anymore helpful than the last one and in fact it might’ve been worse. This time there was no denying that the other person in his vision was Blaine.

Cast in the duller hue of all his premonitions, Kurt watched with a sense of anticipation as Blaine came closer, reaching out to hold his shoulders, coaxing him up against the side of the house. Bare skin hit the siding and Kurt nearly melted into it, knees feeling weaker already. The world was glimmering in sunlight though they were encased in shadow, and it would’ve been disorienting even if it wasn’t a premonition.

They were both naked and Kurt had no idea how they ended up like this, shivering from the icy water, droplets all over their bare skin, and then the heat of Blaine beneath it all, the way he pressed their bodies together with insistence. One hand behind Kurt’ head to keep it from hitting the side of the house when he tilted it back to attach their lips. Full of hunger and want, something deep inside that made them ache.

Kurt startled back to reality at the end of his vision. He felt even more exposed than before. There was no way he could forget something like this, as much as he would try. A constant stream of what the fuck filtered through his brain and he was kind of really pissed off because of course the only real visions he would be having right now were ones that had nothing to do with the case he was dealing with right now. It was annoying as hell.  
Nothing was set in stone, Kurt reminded himself. It was something he told himself whenever he had an unfavorable premonition. It was true, too: there were infinite futures and premonitions only showed the one that was on track to happen, given the situation in the current moment. Things had a tendency to change. Nothing was set in stone.  
Kurt quickly stripped all the way out of his clothes and kicked them to the side so they wouldn’t get wet. If he rushed, maybe he could get dressed by the time Blaine got here. He considered forgoing the shower altogether and just making a run for it, but there was a part of himself begging him to stay.

Fuck. Kurt couldn’t do this. He couldn’t deal with feelings when he had so many other things on his mind. He was just trying to do his job and of course his stupid abilities were making it even more arduous. The irony.

There was no way to wash himself quickly. The water was freezing cold and made him shiver to the point of teeth chattering. He lathered himself in soap and fantasized about venturing out in the sunshine to warm his skin. Maybe he would take a nap in the grass after this. The thought was nice enough to keep him from having a panic attack about what his vision just foretold.

And then he heard movement to his right. Kurt turned and watched Blaine round the corner of the house and approach him, half hidden by the white sheets fluttering in the sunlight.

Up against the side of the house, Kurt was covered in shadow, but it wasn’t enough to hide his nakedness. He also wasn’t wimpy enough to squirm away or try to cover himself. He had more dignity than showing Blaine he was bothered this, even though he clearly was. It felt like his whole life was just a challenge to appear unaffected.  
“What’re you doing here,” he heard himself say, his voice weaker than he would’ve liked. Flatter too, with no inflection even though it was technically a question. He was dripping wet and shivering, cold from the icy water of the hose, the handle grasped tightly between his fingers.

“I need to shower too, don’t I?”

As if he couldn’t have chosen any other time when Kurt was actually clothed. Kurt rolled his eyes and went back to rinsing the soap from his body, because if Blaine was going to act all blas é about this then so was he. He ignored the way he felt so exposed, naked and standing outside, bare feet sinking into the mud.

The sound of fabric rustled beside him but Kurt tried not to pay any attention, even once Blaine was fully naked and standing there in all his stupidly confident, arrogant glory. He was like that about everything: unapologetic.

Kurt felt a certain desperation to finish up and leave before he embarrassed himself, before he betrayed the stupid way he felt about Blaine, how even just a lazy smile from him could make his heart flutter. How dumb it was and how much he hated it.

“Here, let me. You still have...” Blaine trailed off, apparently having no desire to finish his sentence or even wait for Kurt to say it was okay before he took the nozzle out of Kurt’ hand which had gone lax.

He tested the water out on his own hand, thankfully, before doing something stupid like spraying it directly at Kurt. “Fuck, that’s freezing.”  
“I know,” Kurt muttered, folding his arms over his chest and clenching his teeth together to stop the chattering.

“Can I..?”

“Go for it.” Kurt wondered if Blaine’d had any visions about them together or if that was just something with which Kurt was afflicted. He wasn’t sure which was worse, that Blaine thought of doing things to him or that he was in this alone.  
The way Blaine was looking at him hinted that he wasn’t alone.

Blaine sprayed the hose at him to wash away the soap, partly covering the nozzle with his hand so the stream wasn’t too strong. Kurt shuddered as the water hit him, washing away the soap. He was trying to play it cool and not show Blaine how bothered he was that they were both here right now, stark naked and outside. Working on a case together because Blaine just couldn’t let Kurt out of his sight.

Kurt knew how this was going to end because he just had a vision about it. Blaine knew too because he would be the one to decide to kiss Kurt. So they stood there, soft grass between their toes, Kurt shivering and Blaine about to say some dumb, cliche line about Let me warm you up.

“Baby, you’re so cold...” Blaine said, brushing his hand down Kurt’ shoulder.

“Don’t say it,” he warned.

The corners of his lips turned up which was a begrudging relief since it had been so long since Kurt saw him crack a genuine smile. He edged closer, backing Kurt up against the side of the house, bracketing him in with an arm on either side of his head. They were in the same position as in the vision he just had.

“Don’t say it,” Kurt repeated, weaker as he let his head fall against the siding. Tilting his face up, opening up. Blaine was caging him in between his arms, his muscles prominent. He was lithe and not bulky but it was obvious how strong he was. Like the only way this wasn’t going to happen was if Kurt actually told him no.

Blaine grinned. “I could warm you up,” and his spearmint breath fanned over Kurt’ face, over his lips.

“Blaine...”

“Shhh,” he murmured, pressing their lips together softly. Slowly.

Kurt was lucky his head was already resting back because his body was already going lax at the soft, unexpected touch and his brain couldn’t deal with the fact that Blaine was kissing him right now. And he was kissing back.

When Blaine pulled away just enough for them to breathe, all Kurt could see was the flash of his green eyes.

“What are we doing?” Kurt whispered.

“Taking care of you.”

What a weird fucking answer, he thought, closing his eyes and just feeling Blaine’s hands gripping his shoulders, holding him upright. Their bodies were pressed together, skin on skin and Kurt himself was a mix of sensations, cold from the water and the shadows but warm from Blaine’s weight pressing him into the wall.

“Just wanna make you happy.”

“You’re so weird,” Kurt muttered, weaker than he wanted but still enough to put some distance between them.

He didn’t know what to think of anything that just unfolded and quite frankly he wasn’t in the correct mindspace to analyze anything. Or to even think about why Blaine was doing this in the first place. Taking care of you. Wanna make you happy. It was along the lines of what he always said to Kurt, but usually that just meant calling him every once in a while to make sure he was eating and sleeping enough, to make sure he wasn’t in over his head.  
Blaine laughed and rubbed his arms to warm him up, before leaning in again to push their mouths together. This time Kurt was more prepared for the fissures of pleasure that spread throughout his body at the simple contact, so he didn’t let the chills running through him catch him off guard as he kissed back, because there was really nothing else to do in this situation.

“Alright?” Blaine wondered once he pulled away, and Kurt was feeling a bit dizzy but he tried not to show it. He was still pretty sure his entire body would slump to the ground if Blaine stopped holding him up.

“Yeah, fine.” He tried to regain his footing but the ground was soft beneath him; it gave way with each movement. The mud was an annoyance but the grass was nice; it felt like summer. After spending months suffering through the cold, relentless Illinois winter, the heavy, clinging humidity felt good in accordance with the strong sunlight that threatened to burn his skin.  
“You sure?” Blaine eyed him some more before deciding he was fine, peeling away from his body but keeping his hands hovering in case Kurt decided to fall. Once it was clear he was going to stay put, resting against the wall, Blaine took a step back completely and grabbed the bar of soap to wash himself.

Kurt leant against the wall and watched him because he figured he could, now that they were both naked and had already kissed, and nothing made sense anyway. He figured he could get away with it. Blaine kept his eyes on him too as he washed the dirt and grime away from his skin, rinsing with the hose.

By the end, his curls were wet and dripping droplets that traveled down his chest and back in tiny rivulets. Like Kurt, he was mostly pale from spending the winter up north, but he wore it differently. On Kurt, it made him look sickly, like he’d been holed up in his house and refused to leave. On Blaine it looked natural and healthy. Kurt kind of despised him for that, how he wore even the harshest conditions in a way that was comfortable and easy.

Blaine grabbed the towels he set aside and handed one to Kurt, using the other to dry himself. “So I talked to Jessie after breakfast.”

“Oh yeah?” Kurt wondered how they could switch so easily from kissing to talking about work.

His mind was still reeling and he was feeling lightheaded.

“She was telling me more about the strange activity they’ve noticed here. It’s all just the standard stuff really. Noises at night, doors opening and closing when no one’s there, the horses outside getting spooked.”

“Huh. Any apparitions?” Seeing ghosts was always an important part to any of Kurt’ cases. It didn’t matter if the ghosts were real or not; all that mattered was that someone believed they saw one.

“No. Well, kind of. I asked her more about the room at the end of the hall and she said that one night she saw Tex trying to get in, but he couldn’t break the lock. You wanna know what she told me?”

“What?”

“She said, ‘Tex was really desperate to get it open. Between you and me, I was relieved he couldn’t figure it out.’ So I said, ‘Really, why?’ and she said she could feel eyes on her all night long.”

“Interesting.” Kurt wrapped the towel around himself because the haze was wearing off and he kind of really couldn’t believe what just happened. He just wanted to take a fucking shower but he ended up having a vision about Blaine kissing him, and then lo and behold Blaine actually did it a few moments later.

Kurt still couldn’t understand why. Blaine was so weird about taking care of him, about trying to make him happy and it was something that he refused to give up even though they’ve known each other for years and nothing has come out of it. As far as Kurt was concerned, they were forced together by the circumstances and that was the only reason he put up with Blaine’s weirdness, anyway. Because in a way they were reliant on each other. At least, Kurt was reliant on Blaine. Not that he would ever admit it.

“Yeah. I still think we should wait a little bit before we try to get in there, maybe a day or two or at least until we actually understand what’s going on. And I’d like to communicate with this spirit first before we go in.”

I already communicated with her, Kurt thought bitterly, thinking back to last night when someone or something opened the door for him in the other realm, and he saw a flash of dark eyes in the shadows. But Blaine disregarded that completely because Kurt hadn’t followed protocol.

Whatever. They would go to the car later today, Kurt would dig around in Blaine’s bag for his lock-picking knives, and break into the room tonight once Blaine was asleep. There was a chance Blaine would have a vision about it and know what Kurt was up to but Kurt wasn’t too worried. There wasn’t much Blaine could do to stop him, anyway.  
“So I was thinking we could get our stuff from the car in a few hours and then come back by sundown and do a seance.”

“Alright.” Kurt had a feeling Charlotte wasn’t going to show, but Blaine could try all he wanted. It would keep him busy as Kurt figured out how to get into the room.

Plus, it was always fun doing seances with Blaine. He set up a handwoven cloth on the table, add spiritual crystals and gems, and light candles and incense that Kurt enjoyed the smell of. Kurt wasn’t particularly good at seances but Blaine was amazing at them—they were his speciality. It made sense, too, because communicating with the dead through a seance required following a strict set of rules. Blaine loved rules and Kurt hated them.  
Each clairvoyant had their specialties and the tasks they enjoyed performing. For Blaine it was seances and readings. He had his own practice in Salem where they first met, and it was a successful business considering the amount of cynicism in the world today. Not to mention the fact that his practice was made more popular by the first book he published. Because Blaine was one of those people who wrote books about his paranormal abilities, went to fancy dinner parties in New York City as a result, and had famous friends in the “industry.” Because sometimes it felt like an industry, being paranormal.

Kurt still wasn’t sure what his specialty was, if he even had one. He was good at fucking things up but that wasn’t exactly an ability he could flaunt, so much as an obstacle he had to overcome if he wanted to get out of this case alive. Or any case in general.

“Jessie said we could borrow some of her clothes. So we don’t have to put dirty ones back on.”  
Kurt tugged the towel tighter around himself. He wasn’t sure what to do with the way Blaine’s eyes lingered on his body, so he just ignored it.  
“C’mon, let’s go.”

The way Blaine wore his towel around his hips made him look like an asshole. Kurt couldn’t believe he just kissed him. He followed Blaine inside and up the stairs to Jessie’s room and wordlessly accepted the clothes he was given, taking them to the bathroom.

By the time he came out, Blaine was already dressed in a too tight t-shirt and a running shorts. Kurt laughed even though he knew he looked the same.

“Don’t even say anything, Kurt,” he warned, setting his hands on his hips.

Blaine looked ridiculous but so did he, so he bit his lip and shook his head, turning away. They had a lot of work to do and there was no way they were going to be productive with Blaine’s long legs on display like that.  
...

About an hour before the sun began to set, Kurt found himself crumpled to the ground, his knees sinking into the dirt. He couldn’t recall how he ended up here but his heart was thudding fast in his chest and something was wrong.

Kurt didn’t even need to try this time as he pressed his palm into the earth and another vision washed over him.

He saw the barrel of a shotgun, staring him dead in the eye. The Tennessee moon hanging high in the sky, lunar rays washing over his shoulders, everything cast in a bluish-gray hue. And right there in front of him, holding the shotgun, was a man with a glint in his eye. Anger. There was a loud sound like an explosion or an earthly rupture, and then nothing.

Kurt snapped back to reality with a violent flinch. He collapsed in a heap from kneeling to the fetal position, face pressed into the grass. He had to remind himself of where he was, that it was late afternoon and there was no one else there but himself, no man with a shotgun trying to kill him.

The evil, rooted in the dirt.  
He pressed his head into the dirt and tried to calm his racing heart. But it wouldn’t slow down. Even waiting for a few long moments, his breathing was still heavy and his heart was pounding against his rib cage. Rarely did he have visions about people dying and it was always traumatic. He could feel the darkness seeping in to his own chest, the empty ache of death.

“Blaine!” he called out as a last-ditch attempt, wondering if Blaine was anywhere near the spot where he was crumpled on the ground, or if he was really in this alone. If he was going to sink in the earth due to all the weight he was feeling, dragging him down, making it impossible to get back up.  
There really wasn’t any motivation for Kurt to push forth and keep on living. He wondered if he was going to die. The only thing he really cared about was his family, but none of them knew he was clairvoyant and they would probably never find out. They didn’t know Kurt was in Tennessee right now because he kept his answers vague, saying no more than a business trip. It was easier that way.  
In his heap on the muddy grass, it was hard to hear over the gentle breeze and the blood rushing in his ears from being so lightheaded. But he heard that distinct voice calling out to him, and hurried footsteps through the mud. Someone panting like they just ran a marathon to get here.

“Kurt... Are you kidding me?”

He didn’t respond aside from moaning into his arms and shutting his eyes tighter. There weren’t any words to say, really, and he couldn’t form clear sounds with his mouth. He was still trapped between his vision and reality, teetering between real life and figuring out what death was like. It was always the hardest to bring his soul back from the other side of the veil after coming down from a vision that involved seeing from the eyes of someone who was murdered in cold blood. And Kurt didn’t even know who the victim was.  
Big hands hooked under his arms and heaved him upright, clutching him tight. His head lolled back and he made no move to right it. Blaine swore as he pulled him to his chest.

“You’re not dying,” Blaine huffed, jostling him a bit but it was hard to tell if it was intentional or not. “Stop saying you’re dying. You’re just overwhelmed.”

Oh, so he must’ve been mumbling nonsense out loud. He couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed.

Everything was hot and uncomfortable. Too bright. The sun beating down on him, the way he could feel Blaine’s sweat through his t-shirt. He smelled good, which was gross, but Kurt was too out of it to care.

“What the fuck happened? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Kurt rasped, slumping forward. “Nothing.” He was being dragged through the grass and Blaine was holding his entire weight. He could only remain limp and go with it.

“God, Kurt. You’re a mess.”

He opened his eyes and realized they were in the house. Blaine had deposited him on the couch and was now kneeling between his legs, his big hands set too high on Kurt’ thighs, and there was a serious look of concern on his face.

“Are you alright?”

“Fucking fine, thanks for asking,” Kurt grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He still couldn’t get the vision of a shotgun pointed in his face out of his mind. “What happened?”

“You tell me,” Blaine accused. “I heard you screaming my name and went and found you crying in a heap beside the garden.”

“Fuck,” Kurt muttered, slumping back against the couch cushion.

Blaine’s fingers tensed on his thighs but he didn’t say anything, only levelling him with an stern, unimpressed look.

“Joseph Thomas is a fucking murderer.” And his ghost is probably going to try to kill me now that I said that out loud, Kurt thought.

Blaine’s eyebrows rose on his forehead and his eyes widened comically. He was still kneeling between Kurt’ legs. Kurt focused on the way Blaine’s nostrils flared like they did sometimes, making him look like an asshole, rather than looking at his lips and focusing on how they kissed earlier today.

“What did you see?”

“Him shoving a shotgun in my face and pulling the trigger. They’re buried by the garden. More than one person. Maybe six or seven, I’m not sure. The bones are still there.”

“Kurt...”

“I don’t wanna think about it anymore. But we should go back to the cemetery and try scrying his grave. And then figure out what to do with all the bodies in the garden.”

A heavy, awkward beat of silence hung in the air before Blaine spoke with hesitation. “How about... How about you take the night off and I take care of it?

“What the fuck? No.”

“You could use some rest,” Blaine argued gently.  
“We had a late night last night. It’s understandable, baby.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” he hissed, sitting upright and ignoring the way his entire body was aflame with that one word. It never got him riled up like this unless it was Blaine saying it. It was his weak spot and they both knew it. “I’m fine. We’re going to the cemetery right now and then we’re going to the car, and then we’re doing your little seance thing.”

“Kurt. Come on. You’re allowed to take a break every once in a while. I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“I’m not. I’m fine.” He stood up to prove his point, but Blaine refused to move back even though his hands fell from Kurt’ thighs, and then they were in a very weird position together, much too close to each other.

Kurt stepped away and walked out of the house to find the cemetery again. He couldn’t remember exactly where it was but he headed off into the woods as if he knew where he was going because he wasn’t going to give Blaine the satisfaction of taking the lead. He stomped through the forest with Blaine trailing after him.

It took longer than it should’ve because they had to backtrack a little bit, but they finally made it to the clearing lined with wildflowers.

“They all died so young,” Kurt muttered, in awe again of the short time between the birth and death years marking each tombstone.

He and Blaine had a lot of work to do, but Kurt was already jaded from the earlier vision. Darkness and decay clouded within him with an oppressing weight. He wasn’t sure how many more gruesome visions he could handle. The more death he experienced during a retrocognition, the more his mind could get caught up in a real dark place.

“Bad blood brings bad luck,” Blaine agreed, standing a step behind him as they surveyed the cemetery for the second time. “But I don’t speak ill of the dead, especially not when they’re staring up at the souls of my boots.”  
...  
An hour before sunset they began walking to the car. It was going to take a while to get there and they both accepted the fact that it would be dark on the way back. Blaine was worried about the lack of light but Kurt figured the moon and stars above would be enough. They were lucky the sky was clear tonight.

They talked about the case for most of the walk but Kurt could tell Blaine wasn’t really paying attention. He was antsy, jittery, like he was waiting for something to happen. And every time Kurt looked over at him, he caught him staring at Kurt’ lips.

That annoyed Kurt because it was Blaine who decided to kiss him, anyway. He didn’t have to act like such a weirdo about it. All through the day there had been a heavy, charged tension between them ever since Blaine pressed him up against the side of the house.

Kurt couldn’t get the thought of Blaine’s naked body out of his mind, the way it felt pressed against him, holding him up. It was like every time he closed his eyes he saw Blaine standing there, cast in shadow with the mountains lit in sunlight behind him, crowding Kurt backwards. Gripping his shoulders, slipping a knee between his thighs and pushing upwards. Kissing him soft and sweet but insistent.

Kurt would be lying if he said they’d never gotten close to something like that through all these years of knowing each other, despite how much they bickered. Whenever they had dinner together they would always get a little too wine-drunk and dizzy, and whatever space had been between them before would melt into something nonexistent.  
If they were sitting on the couch in Kurt’ apartment, Kurt would almost always find himself with his head on Blaine’s shoulder without ever making the conscious decision to rest it there. Blaine would sometimes have his arm around him, a warm, heavy weight over his shoulders and the back of his neck. And then Kurt would turn his head up and already find Blaine looking down at him, a conflicted expression on his face. And the space between their lips would be so small. It would be so easy to lean forward and press them together.

Nothing ever happened, though. Not until this morning, by the side of the house, standing naked in the mud, dripping wet with freezing cold water. They hadn’t had anything to drink. They were both completely lucid. And Blaine crowded him against the siding and kissed him for no reason at all.  
Kurt glanced at Blaine again and caught him staring intently, as if he was cataloguing the features of his face for later memory. It was the fifth time in less than twenty minutes and Kurt was annoyed with it, feeling a little too on display.  
“What?” he finally snapped, and Blaine flinched back as if he hadn’t realized he was doing it.  
“Um, nothing. Sorry. What were you saying?”  
Kurt rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t important.” He was just rambling about his vision, trying to figure out what it meant. Obviously Joseph Thomas was a murderer but Kurt couldn’t figure out much more than that. He needed more background context but they had already gone through every historical document concerning Ashland ranch that they could find, and the facts were few and far between.  
When they finally got to the car, everything was just as they left it. It was kind of eerie, seeing the abandoned car on the empty road, no sign of life for miles. Especially under the setting sun, it looked surreal.

“Here, why don’t you try to start the car again while I get out stuff from the trunk? Who knows, it might work.”

Kurt shrugged and took the keys, ignoring the way Blaine was acting really strange. Something was off but there was no way for Kurt to know what it was without Blaine telling him. Unless he concentrated really hard and slipped into the other realm, but they had made an agreement only a few months after they met to never intentionally scry each other’s lives. It was a total invasion of privacy and quite frankly Kurt was happy to not know what Blaine was up to, what he had done in the past and what he would do in the future.

Sometimes visions came unexpectedly and those were ones that couldn’t be helped. Over the years, Kurt had a few visions about Blaine but most of them were boring, of him getting his second book published or meeting famous clairvoyants who would mentor him.

The most interesting one was when Kurt predicted Blaine breaking his wrist after tripping over his own feet and landing awkwardly on his hand. Kurt told him about it beforehand, of course, but a warning to be careful did little to protect him from his own clumsiness. He had to have surgery on his wrist but at least he was prepared for the accident to happen, thanks to Kurt.

The visions Blaine had about Kurt’ life, or at least the ones he told him about, were a little more embarrassing and almost always had something to do with his love life. Or lack thereof. Blaine took pleasure in telling Kurt about his weekend escapades before they even happened. It was kind of awful, especially with the way Blaine judged each person like it was his decision to make whether Kurt slept with them or not. Yeah, that was really awful.

The one time Blaine told him something actually useful was when Kurt’ ex-boyfriend, if he could be called that seeing as they hooked up for a few months and then never spoke again, was stalking him. Kurt was startled when Blaine came rushing over unannounced one night, and he thought he missed one of their monthly dinners until Blaine told him about his vision.

It turns out his ex had been following him home from work, climbing onto the fire escape of the building across from him, and watching him through his windows. Kurt didn’t feel safe in his home for a while after that, even after filing for a restraining order. Blaine had been livid about it, offering Kurt to stay in his apartment, telling him to get a security guard, and demanding he check  
in on the phone every day just to make sure he was safe.

Kurt had to laugh about it because of course he would be the one with the psycho ex-boyfriend stalking him. Of course.

The car didn’t start no matter how many times he tried the keys in the ignition, so he declared it dead again and got out, rounding the car to the trunk to meet Blaine there.

Blaine was just pulling the last bag out so Kurt leant forward to slam the trunk closed, but was yanked backwards with a hand on his wrist. “No, don’t-”

“Why not?” Kurt demanded, pulling himself free as soon as Blaine’s grip slacked just enough. His hand hovered over the sun-warmed metal as he waited for Blaine’s answer.

“Just, a vision. Kurt,” Blaine looked uncomfortable and vaguely distressed, like he knew there was no way Kurt would ever listen to him telling him not to do something. “Please don’t touch it.”  
Some objects had memories tied to them, strong enough that they forced a vision on a clairvoyant at the slightest physical contact. Kurt knew this well because he’d had his fair share of touching things by accident and being shoved into the other realm. Most of the time it wasn’t a big deal, but sometimes he saw things he didn’t want to see. The types of memories that clung like this to objects were memories associated with potent emotions, usually grief or anger or something equally as encompassing.

Kurt had seen a lot of bad things in his life, though, so he highly doubted this would be that big of a deal. He rolled his eyes at Blaine and then set two palms on the trunk to slam it closed. Which was, of course, a big mistake.

Pleasure flooded through his body like a tidal wave, making his knees weak, his entire body flushed and sweaty. He was folded over the trunk of the car, chest sticking to the warm metal, arms splayed out in front of him and his hands desperately grasping at nothing to hold himself upright. He curled his fingers, digging them into the flesh of his palms, biting the collar of his shirt to keep from crying out.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so good for me, feel so good for me.”

Hands squeezed his hips tighter, fingertips digging in to the soft flesh and stopping him from getting rammed into the car. His head slumped forward, Blaine following him and draping his body over him, pistoning his hips harder so the only sound over the summer breeze rustling the leaves in the distance was the obscene slap of skin against skin. Kurt spread his legs wider and pushed his ass back into the cradle of Blaine’s hips, meeting him at every thrust and feeling pleased with the way Blaine moaned in response.

Kurt pulled his hands away from the trunk as if the metal was burning hot. He stayed very still, refusing to turn around and face Blaine. His face was on fire, red with embarrassment and the overwhelming feeling of desire for something he thought he could never have.

“Blaine,” he said, slow and calculated because it was difficult to say his name when he had just been screaming it in the vision he just had. He turned around because he wasn’t a coward, and looked Blaine in the eye. “What the fuck was that?”  
Blaine chuckled awkwardly and scratched at his collarbone, fidgeting. He looked more nervous than he had any right to be, considering they had both seen the future and knew how this would end. “I’m assuming you saw the same thing I saw?”

“Maybe from a different point of view,” Kurt mumbled. Visions could be weird sometimes, where the person you were embodying wasn’t always yourself. Kurt severely hoped Blaine had seen the vision from his own eyes rather than Kurt’. He couldn’t stand the thought of Blaine knowing the depth of the desire Kurt felt, how much he wanted Blaine, how badly he needed him.  
“Maybe,” Blaine agreed, lips twitching up into a smile.

“So...”

“So.”

They stared at each other, framed by the sunset, the big sky opening up and bleeding orange and red at the horizon. Blaine was glowing like this.  
“I have lube in my bag,” Blaine said slowly, matching Kurt’ gaze. “And condoms.” 

“You brought lube and condoms to ghost hunt in Tennessee?”

“You have no idea the visions I’ve been having about us the past few months.”

Kurt laughed, not because it was funny but because he was surprised. Blaine had been having premonitions about them together? The thought made something swirl deep in his core. He slumped back against the car and let his elbows rest on the trunk.

“Alright, yeah.” He laughed.

Blaine’s brows raised. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” Kurt beckoned, smiling, and Blaine listened, so he hooked his hands around the back of his neck to pull him even closer and smash their lips together.

It was a messier kiss than this morning and Kurt only had control of it for a second before Blaine took over and forced his mouth open, their teeth clashing. The earlier softness was gone and replaced by a blazing fire. Kurt let his hands slip down Blaine’s back and claw at his shoulder blades through the cotton material of his shirt. He pressed up, demanding more, and Blaine kissed him harder with even more intent.

It was the worst time to have another vision but it happened anyway; Kurt couldn’t help it. His body went lax like it always did when he was in the other realm and Blaine felt it, cupping his jaw and tilting his face upwards.

“Stay with me,” Blaine gasped into his open mouth, demanding. “Stay with me, don’t slip away.”  
Kurt shuddered and forced his eyes open, his sense of sight a swirling mix of Blaine in front of him, his kiss-bitten lips which were wet with spit, his concerned green eyes, and something else completely, something far away.

He desperately wanted to stay in the moment but he couldn’t help the vision he was fighting against, a mix of fire and burning and fear. A house collapsing down around him, and smoke so thick he couldn’t breathe.

It was over before he knew it and Kurt was panting into Blaine’s mouth, clinging to him like a lifeline. His body was shaking like a leaf and he was embarrassed by the look of pure concern on Blaine’s face, the way it sometimes seemed like he was fighting against the instinct to sweep Kurt away and keep him somewhere safe where nothing could ever harm him. It was an impossible ideal given his line of work, given the abilities that had been “gifted” to him at conception. Safety was beyond the bounds of possibility but the look on Blaine’s face said he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“Come here,” Blaine said, repeating Kurt’ earlier words. Even though there was nowhere to go, no way to be physically closer. “Stay here.” And he kissed him again, hard enough to bruise.

Kurt was lightheaded and dizzy from his vision and the way Blaine was touching him. It was too much to deal with and somehow not enough at all. He was the one who pressed closer and rubbed against Blaine, making their mutual arousal clear. Blaine was hard and there was no way Kurt was letting it go to waste.

“C’mon, c’mon, what’re you waiting for-”

“Shh, baby, be patient.” Blaine grabbed hold of his jaw and tilted it out of the way to kiss his neck instead. “Nowhere to be. We’ve got time.” He sucked to bring blood to the surface of his skin, leaving deep marks that ached pleasantly, running his teeth over them and then soothing the ache with his tongue.

Kurt bit the inside of his own cheek to keep from making embarrassing noises but some slipped out without his consent. He nuzzled his nose against Blaine’s hair and against his ear.

Blaine smelled good despite the cheap soap from their earlier shower and how he was sweating all day. His scent was sweet and musky, not to mention familiar from all these years of knowing each other and Kurt found it comforting.

Blaine sucked and bit at Kurt’ collarbones before, lifting his shirt and kissing down his chest and stomach. Kurt squirmed but didn’t protest when Blaine pulled the waistband of his shorts down and palmed over his hard on. It had been so long since the last time he had another person’s hands on him and the fact that it was Blaine made him feel even dizzier with lust.

“You want this, baby? Want me to stretch you with my fingers? Split you open with my cock?”  
Kurt’s only response was a high keening sound in the back of his throat and another, feverish kiss.  
“Okay,” Blaine agreed, tugging Kurt’ shorts and underwear down to his knees in one pull.

Wasting no time now that it was clear they were on the same page, he rubbed Kurt’ cock with one hand and used the other to slip between his cheeks and rub against his puckered hole which fluttered under the touch.

As he pulled away to rifle through his duffel bag for lube, Kurt leant against the car and tried to steady the swirling in his mind. He focused his gaze on the mountains and the sunset, then down to Blaine where he was swearing and making a mess of his belongings as he hastily dug through them.

When Blaine finally came back he stood up to kiss Kurt again, burning and slow. He seemed content to just stay there like that without doing anything else so Kurt eventually had to swat him away to get the show on the road. Only then did he lube up his fingers and press one inside, encouraging a moan out of Kurt.

“Good, yeah? You like having me inside you?”  
“More,” Kurt whined, one hand slipping into Blaine’s curls. Tugging on them just enough to get Blaine to add another finger.

The stretch burned in the best way and it was all Kurt could do to stay upright. A bed would’ve been nice but they were making do with what they had.

It hadn’t even sunk in yet, that they were fucking on the empty open road when anyone could drive by and see exactly what they were doing. The thought sent a shiver of pleasure and nervousness through his body and he was glad the road was deserted, because there was no way Blaine would let this happen otherwise. He was protective at best and possessive at worst; no way would he let anyone else see Kurt like this, coming undone just from two of his fingers slicked with lube.

It got worse every time Kurt thought of what was to come, what he had seen in his vision, what Blaine had seen too. They both knew this was going to end with Kurt bent over the trunk of the car and they were both kind of desperate to get to that point.

That was what led Kurt to rush Blaine through the process, even though he probably could’ve used another finger or at least a few more strokes. The way Blaine teased his prostate but always narrowly missed it showed he knew exactly where it was. Kurt was annoyed enough to yank hard on his hair and demand that Blaine get inside him before he decided to take his business elsewhere. Whatever that meant, as if there was another man within a few miles radius who would be interested in fucking Kurt into oblivion over the back of a broken-down rental car.

Blaine took his time scissoring his fingers anyway to spread him open more and even add a third one too, ignoring Kurt’ desperate pleas to hurry up. The messy, wet noise of his fingers pumping in and out of his hole served as the backdrop to the way they were both panting heavily.

Every time Kurt would moan, Blaine would groan in response, like he liked the way Kurt sounded and wanted to hear more. Which seemed to be the case because he kept urging Kurt to be louder, to stop biting his lip and instead let the noises spill out freely.

After Kurt complained enough Blaine finally removed his fingers. He grabbed Kurt by the hips and flipped him around, pressing him up against the car. Kurt would’ve complained except this was the exact way he wanted it too. Blaine left a few kisses on his cheeks on the way up, trailing his lips along his spine as well. The crinkle of foil indicated he was opening a condom and sliding it on.  
Kurt looked over his shoulder to get a good look at Blaine’s cock and wasn’t surprised to see it was just as big as it felt. Not that he would ever tell him that. He was arrogant enough as it was.

The first press inside was nothing but a burning ache that made Kurt's eyes roll back involuntarily, reminiscent of his famous bitch glare. Blaine followed him and kissed along his neck as if to slow himself down, sinking in slowly. It felt a little too good, especially for the first press inside, like it might ruin him from sex with other people forever. That was not a good thing.

“Alright, baby?”

“Good, yeah. Fuck.” He would’ve yelled at Blaine again for calling him that but just hearing the pet name in Blaine’s voice made him melt just a little bit too much. It made him more willing, more malleable.

Blaine stilled his hips as soon as he bottomed out to give Kurt a moment to catch his breath. He was panting heavily and his skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. When the breeze picked up it made him shiver, and Blaine noticed, holding him closer as if to warm him.

“Can I?”

“Yes, hurry up, you’re so slow-”

“How do you want it?”

“You know what I want.”

“Tell me, please, baby. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Fuck me hard,” he gasped against the metal, no shame anymore. Things were already as severe as they could get and there was no going back. Just yesterday he never would’ve guessed he would be here right now, but it felt right. “Fuck me so I’ll feel it tomorrow.”

Blaine was overcome in the way that he responded, “Okay, god, you’re amazing, I-” and he cut himself off by attaching his lips to Kurt’ neck. He retracted his hips sharply, pulling all the way out so the tip teased Kurt’ hole, before slamming back in. Kurt was glad he shut up because he wasn’t in the mood to hear something sappy.

Kurt jolted, his hips hitting the car with a bang. Blaine apologized and then pulled out and did it again, this time grabbing Kurt’ hips so they wouldn’t slam into the car. Kurt hardly noticed. He was so overwhelmed, he was shaking.

Blaine was much of the same. He was mumbling nonsense into Kurt’ neck and in that moment it was just like his vision. Burning hot desire washed over Kurt and his sense of sight swirled in and out. It was all he could do to focus on staying upright. And not passing out.

Time passed in a hazy mess of ecstasy and it felt both fleeting and infinite. Kurt could neither recall what happened nor make any sense of it in his mind other than the fact that it felt so fucking good and this was something he didn’t want to give up, now or ever.

At one point Blaine lifted the back of his shirt to press desperate kisses on the bumps of his spine and across his shoulder blades, but it didn’t last long because he had less leverage in this position and it wasn’t very conducive to the rigorous fuck they both wanted more than anything. So he pulled away, standing upright and letting Kurt’ shirt fall down again.

Blaine was grunting behind him, squeezing his hips in a death grip and pounding into him. He was messy with it but not careless, despite the vigor.  
He detached one hand from Kurt’ hip to wrap his arm instead around his torso, pulling him backwards so he was standing upright and resting against Blaine’s chest, trapped against him. Burning hot and shaking, trembling with need.

“Come on, baby, come for me, c’mon,” Blaine grunted into his ear, and it wasn’t a suggestion but an order.

Kurt would’ve scoffed and rolled his eyes if he were any more in control of himself but the fact of the matter was that he was lost completely to Blaine, consumed by him. His toes curled and his muscles tensed as he released even as he fought against it, explosions of ecstasy turning his sight into bright white light.

His orgasm had been building ever since Blaine touched his cock and now he rode out the high— the longest, most intense climax he ever experienced. It made his entire body shake and then slump forward, and he would’ve sank to the ground if it wasn’t for the way Blaine was holding him up.

He hung limply in his arms as Blaine continued to fuck him, chasing his own release. Kurt could only close his eyes against the stars dancing in his vision and let the pleasure wash over him in

constant waves. He hardly noticed as Blaine came, his hips stilling inside him, pressed in as far as he could manage.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Kurt reached back, his arm weak and cumbersome, and patted Blaine on the cheek. “Yes, Blaine, we just fucked,” he said in an overly patient, patronizing way.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, not pushing Kurt’ hand away but instead covering it with his own and holding it there.

He was still inside him and Kurt felt every exhale. Blaine was huge and it was getting to be too much now that he already orgasmed and everything was sensitive and touchy. Kurt squirmed away and Blaine let him, but didn’t allow him to go far, turning him around and gathering him up in his arms, manhandling him into a hug.

“Are you alright?”

“I am fine,” he said through gritted teeth. Although he felt like his legs would collapse at any moment, his knees too wobbly to keep him upright.

“C’mere.” But Kurt was already ‘here.’ There was nowhere else to go, he was swathed in Blaine’s arms. It was sticky and hot, sweaty. But the sun had finally dipped below the horizon and it was beginning to cool off.

“We’re gonna be walking back in the dark.” His words were muffled due to his mouth being smashed against Blaine’s chest.

Blaine held him tighter.“Kurt.”

Kurt ignored him and pulled away, nearly ripping himself out from under Blaine’s arms, which were bigger than they had any right to be. All these years of knowing each other and Kurt was always pointedly ignoring his muscles and the fact that he worked out with a sort of discipline and conscientiousness that bothered him.  
He went to pull up his shorts before Blaine had an opportunity to do anything. He seemed like the type of person who would zip up and button someone else’s jeans after fucking them over the back of a car, but Kurt didn’t care to find out.  
Now that there was a bit of space between them, reality rushed in to fill it. Which meant the embarrassment that was absent earlier finally caught up to him. He turned away, wiped the come off the car with his hand, and then found himself at a loss for what to do with his sticky fingers.  
Blaine was watching him but he didn’t say anything, at least not at first. He pulled his pants back up too and grabbed their bags. His own was a stupidly expensive duffle, which Kurt found horribly cumbersome and useless and reminded Blaine every chance he got. Blaine didn’t even offer Kurt’ own rolling suitcase to him, and instead yanked the handle up and started walking, the little wheels making a racket against the old, uneven road.  
Kurt didn’t hurry to catch up. He fell into place a few paces behind Blaine and remained there. 

“I don’t regret what just happened, by the way, and I hope you don’t either. Just so you know.” 

Kurt swallowed. “Alright.”

“Do you regret it?”

Kurt lied to Blaine all the time, about what he was feeling, about the dangers of a case, about what he wanted to eat for dinner just so Blaine would have to make a special trip to the market just for him. But he found it unnecessarily cruel to lie to Blaine about this, about regretting the crude and explicit yet strangely profound moment they just shared with each other.

“No,” he said, thinking of the way Blaine lugged his bag without even asking, probably because he knew he would complain.

“Good.”

As weird as the situation was, there wasn’t much tension between them anymore. Kurt felt more relaxed than he’d been in months, maybe even years but he wasn’t sure and quite frankly didn’t want to find out.

The walked back to the ranch mostly in silence, although they discussed the details of the case a little bit.

It was funny how easily they could turn it on and off like flicking a switch. How they could both be so overcome with such a visceral need and then sate it so quickly and fully that a certain contented silence settled between them, not for the first time.  
It was like the nights when they’d have dinner and then somehow end up on the couch afterwards, tired but maybe happy or at least satisfied, sinking into each other. This always occurred to varying degrees, mostly depending on how much wine they consumed throughout the course of the evening, but sometimes also depending on the other circumstances, the conflicts of life that made forgetting it all for a moment just for the sake of being close to someone so much more desirable.  
Even if that someone was someone he begrudgingly worked with mostly against his will. Even if that someone was a huge annoyance to his process of diving in and not giving a fuck about the consequences because it was so much easier to let his psychic abilities rule him than the other way around . Even if that someone was Blaine.

By the time they got back to the ranch, the sky was dark and the crickets were chirping. The air was chilly enough to raise goosebumps on Kurt’ skin.

He folded his arms, feeling sticky and just filthy in general, despite the “shower” this morning which seemed like a lifetime ago. They had just walked ten miles on the road, five there and five back, in only a few short hours and he kind of wanted to sink to the ground and not stand anymore, ever.  
“I’ll bring these upstairs?”

“Sure,” Kurt agreed, “I’m gonna wash up and then check out the garden again.”

The second part of his plans made Blaine frown but he didn’t outwardly object, aside from the compelling “I’ll join you in a sec. Be safe.”  
Kurt didn’t watch him go outside but instead rounded the corner of the hose and picked up the hose, the metal of the nozzle cold and wet against his palm. He stripped out of his clothes under the protection of the darkness and quickly rinsed away the sweat and other substances on his skin. By the time he turned the hose off again he was shivering in the evening breeze and drying off with one of the sheets hanging on the clothesline because he forgot a towel again and Blaine was nowhere around to bring him one.

After dressing in the same old clothes, which wasn’t ideal but he would have to get over it, he wandered to the edge of the garden and sunk down to his knees, careful not to press his palms to the grass.

Someone or something was trying to tell him something but it was muffled and garbled like speaking with a mouth full of cotton. Or dirt.  
It wasn’t a mystery anymore that Joseph Thomas was a murderer, but Kurt still wondered what he’d fine if he started digging right here. He had his guesses, but he wondered if he could convince Blaine to find a shovel and carve it into the earth until they hit something. Digging up makeshift graves went against protocol, but if there was one thing Blaine valued over the straight and tight rules, it was respect for the dead.

Footsteps sounded on the grass behind him, enveloped in the nighttime melody of wind and crickets. It very well could’ve been anyone who lived at the ranch but Kurt had become skilled at finding Blaine’s presence on the clairvoyant field. Thus he didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know it was him. Blaine carried a sort of aura with him wherever he went; it was green and warm, familiar.

“Hey,” he said, coming up behind him and sitting down by his side, too close. “Everything alright?”

Kurt had multiple snarky comments at the ready but he was tired enough to just say, “Yeah.” He wasn’t in the mood to fight, not with all that happened today and the way his mind was still reeling with it.

He kept his gaze shifted away from Blaine because he was afraid that if he looked, memories of the activities they engaged in earlier would flood into his mind. He couldn’t handle that, not when he was already so bad at covering his emotions and Blaine was good at reading his expressions anyway, poker face or not.

“What’s on your mind?” Blaine was also good at prying in a gentle way, when everything else was overwhelming but he still needed answers.  
Kurt usually hated his gentleness, despised it for many reasons, one of them being it made him feel weak not just because he needed it but because he wanted it too, badly, enough to make him ache even when he tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend it didn’t exist, pretend it was never a feeling he felt, the I have no idea what you’re talking about don’t fucking ask me that kind of pretending.

A lot of things. Not enough, considering what we just did and the fact that I’m not freaking out about it. Everything was fine. Everything was fucking fine.

“We’re no closer to figure out what she’s trying to tell us.” Charlotte, the ghost he saw, the flash of eyes behind the door at the end of the hall. The girl who died in a fire. That one.

“It’s not dire,” Blaine reasoned, watching Kurt pick and pull at the strands of grass, only occasionally yanking them out and tying them together in knots because he could never sit still. Blaine, on the other hand, was perfect at it. Sitting like a statue and watching Kurt fidget.

“Eh,” Kurt said, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

“No one has died. No one is in danger of dying. Except... I mean, except us. Because our job is dangerous when we rush and don’t follow the rules.”

What he meant, but didn’t say, to soften the blow, was ‘when you rush and don’t follow the rules.’

There was no “we,” seeing as Blaine would rather die than break protocol even if it meant solving the case and going home to sink into bed and take three days off to ignore the world, the visions. The deafening pressure of having psychic abilities and needing to use them to help people, because if you’re unlucky enough to be a clairvoyant than you better goddamn cope with it by chipping away at the mountain of evil in the world. The mountain of evil that is the world.

Kurt pressed his palm to the grass to remember. “People died, though. A while ago, maybe, but don’t they matter?”

“Of course they do. But so does your safety.”  
He pushed his hand down harder and closed his eyes, letting visions of the past wash over him even though he had experienced most of them already, earlier when he collapsed beside the garden, thrown into the void without any intention of taking the dive in the first place.

Things like that never happened to Blaine because he learned how to handle his clairvoyance from experts, professionals, people who had been through hell and back and knew how to deal with it, how to keep the visions out when they needed to stay out.

Kurt was different because he was all alone when he discovered his powers. Blaine was the only real clairvoyant he had ever met, in person or on the psychic plane. Kurt wasn’t a fan of people in authority who profited off of being psychic, who commercialized it, who spoke at lectures all over the country, who sold their experiences to directors of horror films that did the exact thing that got under Kurt’ skin like nothing else—portraying real psychics as freaks.

Not that they weren’t freaks, because they were, Kurt knew that, but it was horrible when it was in the public eye. When he could describe himself as an oddity, an abnormality, a monstrosity, and everyone would agree with him.

Kurt opened his eyes and lifted his hand. When he pulled back again Blaine was watching him, dark eyes in the moonlight. The forest was gloomy and shadowed behind him. Further inside, somewhere deeper and swathed with trees, was the cemetery.  
Kurt was so glad neither of them were psychics who could read people’s minds. Experiencing the past and future of others in random order was bad enough. And no doubt Blaine would yell at him if he knew what he was just thinking, about the rejects and outcasts, the alienated few.

“I think we should take the night off.”

“Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Fine, let me rephrase: we’re taking the night off whether you like it or not. No matter how hard you resist.”

“Blaine.”

“Kurt. We’ve had a long day. We’re not gonna make any progress anyway, burning the candle from both ends.”

“What about your seance?”

Blaine shifted, looking torn. So he had forgotten about that.

Kurt laughed. “We’ll do your seance shit and then go to bed, how about that?”

The sooner Blaine was asleep, the sooner Kurt could investigate the room at the end of the hall. But contrary to what he always told him, he did actually enjoy Blaine’s seances. They were fun and interesting, something Kurt could never really do, successfully at least. It was pleasing to watch Blaine do something he was passionate about, so effortlessly too.

“Alright, fine. But promise me you’ll go to bed right after.” “Yeah, sure.”

Blaine eyed him skeptically. Which was fair. Promising to go to bed didn’t mean staying in bed, but Blaine didn’t need to know that.  
...

Tex was really not into the whole holding hands to maintain a cyclical connection thing Blaine was so adamant about. Usually Kurt was the difficult one but tonight he got to sit back, relax, and watch Tex resist to the point where Blaine’s eye twitched in irritation.

“Fifteen minutes, that’s all I’m asking,” Blaine cried, exasperated, from across the rickety kitchen table.

Tex rolled his eyes but set his hands down, one in Kurt’ grasp and one in Blaine’s. The circle was finally complete and Blaine sighed in relief. Kurt laughed at him, not muffled enough to deflect the sharp glare sent his way. Jessie was laughing too but she wasn’t awarded the same harsh treatment.  
The wooden table in kitchen, which apparently doubled as a dining room and a seance spot, was covered in an antique, handwoven cloth of earthy fibers that made up a dark color at first glance, but appeared colorful on closer inspection. Kurt leaned closer and observed the mix of rainbow threads, because he was already a bit bored. It took forever for Blaine to set up all of his crystals and gems, in the center of the able and lining the circumference.  
Not to mention how long it took to light the dozens of candles littering the table. It looked like they were about to sacrifice someone. Kurt voted Blaine.  
They were ordered to close their eyes, and Kurt stuck his tongue out at Blaine before doing what he was told.

Blaine said some lines of Latin which sounded like a spell. Kurt recognized the meanings of some of the words but mostly just let his mind relax, listening to the steady beat of Blaine’s chanting. He sunk lower in his seat, feeling the way Jessie and Tex were gripping his hands hard, afraid to break the connection and mess everything up.

A heavy moment passed and then Kurt could feel Blaine’s aura flowing out of his body and filling the space around them. It was a sensation imperceptible to anyone who didn’t have psychic powers. But Kurt felt it strong and clear, the familiar warmth of Blaine brushing against Kurt , not their physical bodies but something more, their bare souls, their essence.

It was only another moment before Blaine peeled back the veil to the other realm and beckoned Kurt to follow.

...

“Good job. That was really great work.”  
Kurt rolled his eyes and went back to brushing his teeth, trying to get the taste of the astral plane out of his mouth. Even though it was impossible. Coming back to his body always made him feel shaky and weak, like one of those chihuahuas that constantly shivered because it was always cold.  
He spit toothpaste into the sink and then turned to face Blaine, who was watching him. Like always. This time he was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, not defensive or anything but just his idea of casual.  
Kurt brushed past him and went to get into bed. Now that he had his suitcase with him, everything was better. He had access to his toothbrush, soap, and clothes. And his phone charger, although it was unlikely he would get any signal out here, at the ranch, or anywhere. Oh, the joys of working a case in the desolate mountains of Tennessee.  
He crawled into bed happy but trying to contain it, having already gone through Blaine’s bag to find the lock-picking knives which were right where he figured they would be. Hah. As soon as Blaine was asleep, Kurt would take them down the hall and unlock that fucking door. Whatever was behind there was important even though Blaine refused to acknowledge that.

They hadn’t learned much from the seance aside from a multitude of details about Charlotte’s death in the fire, all of which were frankly unimportant. But it was fun nonetheless, to explore the other realm with Blaine.

They rarely did it together, mostly because Kurt complained that Blaine was chaperoning him like an uptight mom watching her kid at the playground. But whenever they projected their souls beyond the veil together Kurt felt a strong, calming sense of not being alone. Just like that first time he recognized Blaine’s psychic aura in the void and knew what it meant, how it felt to not be alone.

The comforter, which had previously been pulled over Kurt’ face, was peeled back, the cold rushing in. Kurt squawked with surprise and then indignance when the mattress dipped beside him and Blaine clambered inside.

“What the fuck, what are you doing?”

“I’m not stupid, I know you’re going to try to do something rash. This way you can’t escape without waking me.”

Fuck. Maybe Blaine was smarter than Kurt gave him credit. “I am going to hit you on the head and knock you out.”

Blaine huffed out a laugh, throwing his heavy leg over Kurt’ thigh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Fuck you” Kurt grumbled, trying to squirm away. All it did was back him into a corner, quite literally, as his shoulder brushed up against the wall even as Blaine followed his movements, clinging to him like an octopus. Literally lying partially on top of him. Stupidly big arm around his torso, face pressing into his neck, the whole deal.

“This is for your own good,” he retorted, sounding all high and mighty but also smug, in a way that meant this was as self-indulgent as it was for Kurt’ protection.

If Kurt really wanted to, he could put up a fight and push Blaine off the bed. As it was, the room was cold with the windows open and he’d been freezing last night.

“I’m only agreeing with this because you’re warm.”

“Sure,” Blaine allowed, nudging his nose against Kurt’ neck.

All he had to do was wait until Blaine fell asleep, and then he could work on trying to get out from under his limbs. It wouldn’t be easy but Kurt knew Blaine was a heavy sleeper, so he had a chance.  
“We should talk about today.”

“We already did.” They both had agreed they didn’t regret what happened between them. It still didn’t make any sense in his mind and he needed more time to figure out what any of this meant. Not that it meant anything.

“No, but like. Are you opposed to it happening again?”

Kurt’ breath hitched. Oh. He had not been expecting that question.

“Because I’m not,” Blaine said, and that was brave. Kurt would’ve died before being the first one to say it but here Blaine was, admitting he wanted to be intimate with Kurt again. He didn’t even hesitate or try to make excuses. “I’m not opposed to it.”

“Oh.” And because it was the truth, and if Blaine was going to be open about it then Kurt was too, “I’m not, either. Opposed to it, I mean.”

He could feel the smirk pressed to his neck. Or maybe it was a genuine smile, he couldn’t tell, all he felt was Blaine’s lips curving upwards. “Alright, good.”

“Alright,” Kurt echoed.

Neither one of them said anything after that, which was fine. Kurt focused on staying awake as he listened to Blaine’s unashamed breathing in his ear. He tried not to freak out about the physical closeness. Or what happened earlier. Or anything at all, really.

It was difficult to stay awake, though. There was a warm body pressed up against his own, strong arms wrapped around his torso. Despite what he would say if anyone asked, he felt comfortable and safe. He yawned a few times and tried to keep it together, feeling his eyelids drooping but not letting them close. Each blink became longer and longer, and it felt nice to rest his eyes shut but he knew he would fall asleep if he did that so he grasped awakeness with valiance and didn’t give in to the urge.

It didn’t take long for Blaine to fall asleep. He snored obnoxiously, because of course he did.  
They were still in the same position as before and it would be a bit of a struggle to escape. Kurt grimaced at the way he was caged in against the wall. He would have to climb over Blaine to get out of bed.

Just to make sure he was really asleep and going to stay asleep, Kurt poked him in the stomach a few times, just to test how much room he had to move. When nothing happened, he began working on slowly prying Blaine’s arm from around his torso. It was a heavy, dead weight.

“God, what the fuck,” Kurt grumbled, struggling to raise his arm. Blaine shifted slightly but didn’t wake, instead tightening his leg over Kurt’ thigh, which was a problem.

After an obscene amount of wriggling to get out of his hold, Kurt finally escaped for the most part and rested against the wall, out of breath from stress. Blaine was still very much asleep and he looked kind of funny like this. Softer than usual. The stern lines of his face were relaxed and he looked peaceful and younger, which was a cliche but it was true.

Kurt didn’t really waste any time admiring him, or at least that’s what he told himself because staring at someone’s face while they were sleeping was creepy and weird. But then Blaine shifted again and he had a slight grimace on his face and Kurt panicked because if Blaine woke up, he would have to restart the process from the beginning.  
Thinking fast, he shoved a pillow between Blaine’s arms. Surprisingly he accepted it, pulling it to his chest like he had just been holding Kurt. He made a noise that was a cross between a hum and a sigh, snuffling and rubbing his cheek against the pillow. What the fuck. Kurt stared at him, heart racing in his chest, but Blaine was still dead asleep. He took the opportunity to clamber over to his body and roll out of bed, landing on the floor.  
Bewildered that his plan actually worked, he grabbed the lock-picking knives from Blaine’s bag and hurried down the hall. He hoped Blaine would sleep through the night without knowing he was gone, and as soon as Kurt was finished he could slip right back into bed, as if nothing had ever happened.

Smirking to himself, he slid one of the knives into the lock and spent the next two minutes working his magic.

It was a trick Blaine had taught him, originally, because Blaine was the one who was really good at lock picking. Which was why he was the one with the tools for it. But he thought it was important so he made an effort to teach Kurt during one of their monthly dinners. They sat at the kitchen table fiddling with the tools and various locks with which Blaine practiced. He taught Kurt all of his tricks and even timed him to see how fast he could unlock each one.

Kurt twisted the knife just right and the mechanism clicked into place, opening the lock. He exhaled, resting back on his heels and taking a second to regroup and remind himself what he was getting into.

The perpetually locked door at the end of the hall was now unlocked. Obviously it had been inaccessibly for a reason. Kurt thought of just last night when he explored the hallways of this house through the other realm and the door creaked open, a flash of dark eyes behind it.

He hesitated, but not because of fear. More than two decades of living as a clairvoyant and there wasn’t much that scared him anymore, at least in terms of the paranormal. He had seen so much evil in the world. He had seen it all. He hesitated because it was only then that he heard a voice in his mind that made him stop short.

Stupidly, it was Blaine’s voice. Just as Kurt had his own saying which he clung to like a lifelong, whispering nothing’s set in stone to himself at night whenever horrible visions of the future were keeping him awake, Blaine had his own axiom by which he lived.

He told it to Kurt whenever Kurt was being pushy and demanding about wanting to do something, whether that meant accepting a new case or searching the astral plane or anything else that was potentially dangerous. Kurt always argued that everything was potentially dangerous and there was no way around that, because it was a fact of life. He could die at any minute from a freak  
accident or something else. There was no way to prevent it, as much as Blaine tried.

And Kurt heard it now, in his voice. It wasn’t a premonition but maybe something different, a connection between them but he didn’t know for sure.

Some doors should never be opened , Blaine said, often leaving it at that. But he had shared the full saying with Kurt once, a while ago:

“There are some doors that should never be opened. There are some doors which hold secrets which must never be known. That’s everything you need to know.”

Kurt set a hand on the old victorian doorknob, the metal smooth and cool to the touch. Whatever was beyond the worn wood, he could only guess.  
As a last reminder, he told himself there was no going back. Once you let spirits into your life there was little you could do to rid yourself of them. Even as a skilled psychic with years of professional experience, he carried within him every spirit he’d ever encountered. Their essences clung to him and refused to leave him alone.

He twisted the knob, and let the door creak open. ...  
Each ghost had its own way of communicating with the world, like it’s own radio frequency, personalized to the specific way they decided to haunt.

Kurt was particularly fond of the playful ghosts, the ones who played silly tricks and loved to have a laugh, even in the afterlife. He preferred happy ghosts, ones that were stuck in the transient inbetween because they were waiting for a companion to join them, so neither would be left alone.

Charlotte wasn’t a playful ghost. Neither was she an evil ghost, which was a breath of relief in the tinted hue of the other realm, a sigh that escaped Kurt and wrapped around him in comfort.  
No, Charlotte Thomas of Ashland Ranch was a quiet ghost. One who only slightly altered the reality of each room she entered, just teetering on the point of human perception. Making you question it. Making you wonder if you were going insane. Did you really kick the sheets off the bed last night? Did you really leave the closet door open?

She was a quiet ghost who had something to say. Every spirit had a purpose and that was the reason they were trapped in a state of unrest, a liminal space that felt endless. Every spirit had a purpose and Kurt was here to give voice to that purpose and help them find a way out. It was the least he could do, after all they had been through.  
...

“You fucking idiot, you absolute fucking idiot-”  
Kurt snapped back to reality with the feeling of a heavy hand grasping the back of his neck,  
squeezing and pulling him into an upright position. He opened his eyes to see the angry eyes of Blaine.

They were in the room at the end of the hall, which was just a normal bedroom aside from the fact that it hadn’t been touched since the late nineteenth century. It had been locked all those years, left to collect dust. The furniture was victorian and more regal than modern decorating, but it was nothing special.

It was just a normal room. No bones, no demons, no evil. Just a normal room, the room in which Charlotte grew up. She hadn’t died here—she died in a barn fire, after falling asleep in the hay loft. Kurt knew this now, because he had just been communicating with her until Blaine waltzed in and broke the connection.

And, yeah. Blaine was mad. Really mad. Why was he so surprised Kurt refused to do as he said, again? It was something that happened all the time. Blaine should’ve been used to it by now. Kurt never listened to him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Blaine snapped, giving one last squeeze to the back of Kurt’ neck and then letting his hand fall. He was standing by the side of the bed and Kurt was in a half- sitting position on the old comforter of the bed, having been pulled upright from lying down.

Blaine was rarely ever actually angry, and usually only just annoyed by Kurt’ antics. But this was different; Kurt could tell he crossed a line. An important line. He figured it he might have to work harder to get out of this one.

Kurt stared up at him, not willing to back down. What he did wasn’t even dangerous. There wasn’t anything to worry about.

“I am fine,” Kurt said, slowly, as if to prove his point. “I talked to Charlotte and learned a fuck ton more than what we’ve figured out already. She died in a barn fire, Blaine, a freak accident. No one killed her, on purpose at least. Everyone loved her. She died on her birthday. She’s not here haunting Ashland Ranch because of something that happened to her. She wants us to find the proof of what happened to the other people, the ones buried in the garden. Because yeah, they’re fucking buried in the garden.”

“You can’t keep doing this, you can’t keep being so reckless.”

“Why not? Why can’t I? I’m making progress, I’m figuring this out, all while you’re wasting time sleeping and-”

“Kurt. I swear to god-”

“I’m fine. Everything’s okay. Calm down. I know you think this is dangerous but I know what I’m doing. She’s not a malevolent spirit. She’s just trying to show us something, alright? Now you’ve gone and scared her away right when she was going to tell me what to look for. She’s very shy, it took awhile for her to open up, but she seems lovely,” Kurt tacked on, knowing the ghost was likely still listening, even though she showed no sign of her presence.

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers before sighing and looking away, out the window and at the garden. His hair was disheveled and so was his shirt, and he was barefoot like he scrambled out of bed as soon as he realized Kurt was missing.

When he looked back at Kurt, Kurt smiled hopefully. “Okay, fine. But we’re coming up with a plan from now on.”

Kurt bit his lip to contain a laugh, a bit smug with the knowledge that he was so good at getting Blaine to bend to his will. He leant back on his palms and nodded towards the bed, offering Blaine a place to sit. Kurt filled him in on everything he missed, and they spent the next hour devising a plan.  
...  
“So she’s trying to tell us something.”

“Yes,” Kurt confirmed for the millionth time. “What is she trying to tell us?”

“I would know if you hadn’t interrupted us.”

Blaine stopped pacing to stare at Kurt. They were in the guest bedroom again and it was evening, the sun had set an hour ago and everyone at the ranch had already retired for bed. Everyone went to sleep early here, and woke up early too. Except Kurt and Blaine, who seemed to be getting no sleep at all. Kurt especially.

“We’ll spend the night in her room.”

“Yes,” Kurt said. “We already agreed on this.”  
When Blaine was stressed he liked to review the plan a million times because it calmed him down, the sense of routine and method. It made Kurt roll his eyes, even though he could understand. Blaine was overreacting, and there was something bothering him.

“Blaine, for god’s sake, chill. We have everything under control. Why are you so worried?”  
Blaine paused his pacing by the window and set his hand on the sill, looking down at the ground.  
“What is it?” Kurt demanded.

“I keep having these visions.”

“About what?”

“About a fire.”

Me too, I’ve been having them too, Kurt thought, but didn’t say. It was the fire Charlotte died in, it had to be. How many fires could one place have? Honestly.

“And?” 

Kurt prompted, not sure why it was such a big deal. 

“I’ve been having them for a while.”

“How long?”

“Months, maybe.”

That wasn’t good. Having visions about a specific case months in advance could mean a lot of things but rarely was it optimistic.

Kurt, who had previously been lying on his stomach on the bed, reading through the notes Blaine took from the case, shifted so he was lying on his side and facing Blaine. He propped his head up on his hand and watched him run his fingers through his hair for the millionth time. “What do you see in them?”

“I’m not sure, really, it’s hard to tell. I’ve just been having dreams about fires and it feels like something bad’s going to happen.”

Kurt traced a pattern on the handmade quilt covering the twin bed and then closed his eyes. Psychic intuition was nothing to mess around with or ignore, and he rarely saw Blaine this distressed. Usually he was calm and cool, collected in every way. He always had a plan because having a plan kept him in control.

“Hey, everything’s gonna be okay,” Kurt said, repeating the platitude everyone always said when they didn’t have any other words. But he believed it, he really did. When he and Blaine worked together, things could go wrong but he knew they would always resolve them. As much as he tried to deny it, they worked well together. They were a team. They looked out for each other. They protected each other from harm.

“Isn’t it weird that we come here and there’s hardly any strange activity at all? Tex had been talking about misplaced objects showing up in strange formations, doors opening when no one’s around them, the horses getting spooked. The cross in the kitchen getting turned upside down. The footsteps up the stairs, the voices, the sound of women crying. None of that has happened since we’ve been here. Isn’t that weird?”

“It is,” he agreed, tapping his fingers on the quilt. “Charlotte’s just shy, though. And she’s not an evil spirit. She’s just trying to tell us something. I’m guessing it’s about whatever’s in the garden, because that makes sense, but. We won’t know for sure until she’s communicated with us.”

“And what about the other spirits? Charlotte isn’t the only one who died here. What about Joseph Thomas?”

“He already passed on.”

“But-”

“Let’s not worry about it right now. Alright? Let’s just get Charlotte to talk to us tonight. Don’t worry about it right now. Just relax and try not to exhaust yourself before we even begin. Your nervous energy is fucking with my psychic connection.”

They were planning on spending the night in Charlotte’s room, the room Kurt broke into last night which was much less exciting than he thought it would be. For now they were just resting and trying to finalize their plan to get her to communicate. Kurt was rereading the history and Blaine was worrying by the window. They were mostly prepared, all they had to do was wait for the right time to go into the room.

“Hey, come here,” Kurt said, when it was clear Blaine wasn’t going to stop his pacing.

“What is it?”

“Just come here, for god’s sake.”  
Blaine rolled his eyes but obliged, approaching the bed. Kurt stared up at him, wondering if what

he was about to do was a good idea. But then he figured they already fucked yesterday and not much had changed between them aside from the fact that Kurt thought about it all the time now, and he had a feeling Blaine did too because he caught him staring more times than not.

There was now a fire behind his eyes that Kurt wasn’t sure if he was making it up or not. But it didn’t matter if it was there or just a trick of the light. Kurt knew Blaine was at least sexually attracted to him, because no one fucked anyone like that without lusting for them.

Kurt sat up, letting his legs dangle off the mattress. He spread his thighs and grabbed the fabric of Blaine’s shirt to tug him closer, stepping into the space between his legs.

There was a pause of hesitation but Kurt squashed it before it could grow. He moved his hands up to grasp at Blaine’s shoulders, touching his chest along the way, and when he got there he pulled him down so they were equal, and smashed their faces together.

Blaine made a noise of surprise, a muffled squeak that would’ve made Kurt laugh if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. He bit Blaine’s lip harder than was probably normal for two people kissing but it felt good to take out his frustrations and Blaine responded well to it, opening up for him. Indulging in Kurt licking into his mouth, insistent and carving a place for himself, begging to be listened to, to be experienced, to be touched and held.

It was hot and needy, the press of their bodies together, and Kurt already wanted more. He drew away, ready to pull Blaine down onto the bed. But Blaine beat him to it. He pushed Kurt backwards until Kurt toppled over, landing against the pillows and dragging Blaine with him. Blaine caught himself with a hand beside Kurt’ head so he wouldn’t crush him, not that Kurt would’ve minded, and broke their lips apart, a thread of spit keeping them connected.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this,” Blaine whispered, carding his fingers through Kurt’ hair though Kurt swatted his hand away.

“Oh, I bet you did. Kissing me in the middle of fucking nowhere, Tennessee because you’re a goddamn freak.”

Blaine laughed, pinching Kurt’ side until he shrieked. “We’re in Sweetwater, baby. It has a name. But I’m talking about every vision I’ve had since I met you.”

Oh. Kurt blinked. That was news to him. The first vision he ever had about him and Blaine was the one from touching the trunk of the stupid broken-down rental car, and everyone knew how that ended. But if Blaine had been having visions about them together for years...

It made sense. Kurt knew the way Blaine looked at him always seemed a bit too much like he wanted to devour him whole.

“You’re insane,” Kurt told him, and Blaine kissed his jaw. 

“You’re batshit crazy.” 

“So are you, sweetheart.”

“You’re a freak.”

Blaine’s eyes glinted, and they were dark in the dim lighting but Kurt could still see the hazel. It was the same color as his aura in the other realm, the same color that told Kurt he wasn’t just another spirit on the astral plane but a psychic too, another clairvoyant just like him, alive and breathing. It was the color Kurt associated with not being alone because it was the color that reminded him of Blaine.

“I think it’s fair to say we’re both freaks.

“I hate you,” Kurt said. He didn’t want to be beneath Blaine anymore so he wrapped his legs around his waist and used his momentum to flip them over, sitting up on Blaine’s lap.

Blaine didn’t complain but rather set his hands on Kurt’ waist, close to his ass and grinned like a cat.

“You look like such a sleaze.” 

“You’re such a liar.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. “What? You’re so full of yourself. You definitely look like a sleaze.”

“No, I mean that you don’t hate me,” Blaine said, inching his hands lower. He slipped his fingers under Kurt’ shirt and rubbed circles at the soft skin of his hips. “Even though you say you do.”

Kurt opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by Blaine yanking him forward and kissing him hard. It became evident that Blaine went easy on him last time, letting him control the pace of the kiss, because this time he completely took over and Kurt had no other option but to follow along. It was impressive how he could be so domineering while also being physically under Kurt, not that Kurt would ever admit to that.

Blaine used one hand to hold his jaw open, the other still exploring the bare skin of his hips and lower back, dipping lower until he was completely grabbing Kurt’ ass. It felt good so Kurt pushed back into the touch, which made Blaine smirk but not let up the kiss.

Kurt’ mind was hazy, dizzy with pleasure. He resisted giving in only in the beginning, but it became clear Blaine wasn’t going to give him control of the kiss anytime soon so he relaxed into it, melting under his touch. Noises escaped him, little hums and moans which he tried and failed to contain, and Blaine responded in equal enthusiasm.  
The only awareness he had was of the points of contact between their bodies, the places where they were touching, skin on skin, fingers in hair. Blaine used his hand on Kurt’ ass to push their hips together.

“Oh my god, fuck... Blaine, please.”  
He grinded down harder, enough to make them both gasp. They were both hard by now and keen on doing something about it, rutting against each other and lost to pleasure.

“Tell me what you want,” Blaine breathed into his mouth, pressing kisses to his jaw and then down his neck too. He squeezed his bottom and grabbed Kurt’ thighs to hitch them higher on his hips.

“You, your mouth, I don’t know.”

The weird thing Kurt noticed was that Blaine smelled good, which was gross because he hadn’t showered all day and the “shower” was a hose outside anyway. But he smelled like soft earth damp with rainwater, like thunderstorms in the summer. Kurt buried his nose in his neck and inhaled, and yeah, it was a familiar scent. It was one Kurt found comfort in, after years of knowing Blaine.

They kissed until they were both too desperate to not let it go any further, and then Blaine flipped Kurt onto his belly and pulled his pants down and stars started dancing in his vision, his entire being overwhelmed.

“People fight wars for curves like these,” Blaine said, pressing a kiss to the very top of his thigh. Then he spread his cheeks apart and Kurt whimpered as his hole was exposed to the cold air of the room. Blaine laughed and leant closer, ghosting his breath over his skin and leaving little bites on the meat of his ass, delighting in the way Kurt shivered at each new touch.

When Blaine tapped his thumb against his hole, he pressed his face into the pillow and chased the touch, squirming backwards for more. Blaine shushed him and pulled away just to tease him. Kurt bit down on the pillow to halt any embarrassing noises that might slip out of his mouth, but it didn’t hide the moans and whimpering.

And then Blaine was licking into him and everything went perfectly hazy...

“I love seeing you like this.”

Embarrassed, Kurt covered his face in his hands and flopped backward on the bed. There were in Charlotte’s room at it was nearly one o’clock in the morning; they had been in here for an hour and still there was no sign of Charlotte at all. Maybe she didn’t like Blaine.

“No seriously, your face is so red.”

“Shut up.” Kurt understood Charlotte, he didn’t like Blaine either. “Not like you’re any better.”

Actually, that was a lie. While Kurt was still a blushing mess from Blaine eating him out for over an hour, coaxing multiple orgasms out of him, all of which were unfairly intense, Blaine was still his usual self. Aside from the fact that his lips were more swollen than usual and his hair was a bit messy from Kurt grasping it. Afterward, Kurt had been so exhausted he just snuggled closer to the sheets and didn’t protest as Blaine jacked off and came all over his ass and thighs.

“Since nothing’s really happening, maybe one of us can go to sleep and the other can wake us up if something happens?” Blaine suggested, sitting beside him on the old bed. It was queen-sized and large, with a fancy comforter and many decorative pillows. The room, for the most part, was covered in dust though, and it made them both sneeze.

‘Kay, sounds good,” Kurt agreed, curling up on his side and closing his eyes. “Wait, hold on, what if I wanna be the one resting first?”

“Tough luck.”

“No, that’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair. You’re such a whiny baby.”

Blaine pinched his arm. Kurt retaliated by elbowing him in the stomach. He had pointy elbows. They ended up fighting for at least five minutes, rolling around on the bed, each trying to get the upper hand.

In the end Blaine’s superior strength from working out all the time like the health nut he was prevailed and he was on top of Kurt, who was lying face down on the bed in defeat. He had already punched Blaine in the dick but even that hadn’t deterred him enough to grant Kurt the victory.

“How about this,” Blaine said through gritted teeth, obviously frustrated as Kurt squirmed for a bit and then finally went limp. His arms were twisted behind his back and it kind of hurt. “How about we both stay up so it isn’t so bad?”

“You’re hurting my shoulders.”

Blaine eased up, letting go of his arms. “Kurt.”  
“Alright fine, whatever.” He rolled onto his back and stared up at Blaine. “So what now?”

They ended up spending the next hour playing a stupid trivia game they made up on the spot, where one of them would quiz the other on facts they knew. They argued a lot, which was usually settled by a quick google search but since they had no access to the internet the arguments were never-ending.

They also spent a lot of time talking about various topics that floated to their minds from bursts of inspiration, like how Blaine thought he wanted to work for the FBI before he realized they would never take a clairvoyant seriously, and how Kurt said he always wanted to live by the sea someday. Their conversation ranged from classes they fell asleep in during high school to the reasons why they even utilized their clairvoyant skills in the first place, rather than ignoring them.

This led to them kissing until three o’clock in the morning, when Blaine finally pulled away and said if they kept going they were going to end up fucking again. Kurt challenged him by saying he wouldn’t have minded, but then Blaine kissed him again, sweet and slow to smooth the frustration out of his tone, and the world melted away.  
After that they were left inches apart on the bed, gazing at each other with sleepy eyes. Blaine carded his fingers through Kurt’ hair, scratching at his scalp in a way that sent shivers of pleasure radiating through his body.

“Tell me something about you.” 

“What?”

“Anything. About your family, about how you found out you were clairvoyant,” Blaine said, quiet now.  
Kurt shifted his gaze away, unsure where else to look when they were so close to each other. “I already told you the story.”

“Tell me again.”

Seeing no reason why he shouldn’t, Kurt retold the story of foretelling his grandma’s death and how it scared him more than anything. Blaine didn’t react with pity like most people would at hearing the same story, but he did keep his hand in Kurt’ hair, running his fingers through it soothingly. Like he was trying to wash away the bad feelings.

Well, the bad feelings were here to stay but Kurt had mostly moved on from the grief and the fear of seeing death before it happened, of being able to know when and how someone was going to die and seeing it play out firsthand.

What shocked Kurt the most was the realization that he didn’t know much of Blaine’s backstory at  
all. He never talked about it, Kurt realized, and Kurt never asked. It felt wrong, after working with him for three years, not to know. After stopping by Blaine’s place in Salem whenever he was in the area, after Blaine regularly flew out to Chicago just to check up on him in person. They intimately knew each other many ways, but not all. The gaps of the extent to which they knew each other were startling.

“What about you?” Kurt asked for the first time, playing with a loose thread on the comforter. “You never told me.”

Blaine shifted, closing his eyes. “It’s not a happy story.”

“All the more reason to tell me.” Kurt knew more than most how important it was to share your pain with someone else. To open up and show it to them, to let them carry some of the burden. Otherwise it was unbearable.

Blaine sighed, shifting to prop his head up on his hand. He didn’t meet Kurt’ eyes but that was okay, Kurt understood that.

“When I was young, there was a spot in my room where I could fold back the wallpaper,” Blaine began, and Kurt nodded to prove he was listening. “There was this gorgeous old wood behind it. I mean, to me it was.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I was young and it was the only thing I knew that no one else did.”  
Like seeing the death of someone he loved in striking detail, yes, Kurt knew that too well. Knowing the secrets of the universe and the power that came with it. The feeling of knowing exactly what was going to happen and not being able to do anything to stop it.

“I don’t remember exactly when it started, but I began to trace a beautiful old willow into the wall over and over again.”

Kurt could imagine. Strong limbs running up into the sky, and the tangled roots grabbing tight at the dirt.

“I was obsessed,” Blaine said. “I traced that tree until I knew every detail. I even started to see it after a time, little indentations in the wood. But one day the lines felt strange and cold—and I realized it wasn’t the wall I was feeling—there was a girl on the other side of the wood.”

Stilling from where he was picking at the loose thread, Kurt set his palm flat and looked up at Blaine, who was staring off at some imperceptible location behind Kurt as he remembered.

“She was showing me what to draw. She was trying to tell me something. I should have shut my eyes and glued the paper back. But I didn’t and I couldn’t. I let her teach me the shape of the tree again and again until one day I saw it in real life.”

“What happened?” Kurt asked softly.

“Not a thing until a storm hit a few months later. I don’t have to tell you what they found when they pulled up what was left of the willow tree from the ground, now do I?”

“No,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine’s jaw tightened though he fought to control it and he looked down. “That’s when I decided I  
would learn to listen. I knew even then it’d come at a cost. I just had no idea how high.” 

“Blaine...”

“Don’t say anything. It’s okay.” He tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. “I’ve have people who support and love me. I’ve found people to guide me and I’ve found you.”

“We do good things. We help people.”

“At a cost.”

“At a cost,” Kurt agreed, because there was a price to pay for all of their actions and it was up to them to decide if it was worth it.

A comfortable silence fell over them as they both became lost in thought. Kurt pondered what he just learned about him and how it fit into his image of Blaine as a whole. He’d always assumed Blaine’s self-discovery story was similar to his own but happier, maybe predicting the day his mom got remarried or something instead of the death of a loved one. But this was different. This was real.

“I’ll never forget the day I first saw you,” Blaine said, softly. He reached his arm out and brushed Kurt’ cheek with his fingers, just there for the sake of touching. “This little, stressed clairvoyant, all alone, running through the spirit world like he was going to solve it all single handedly. I could feel you from miles away, and then we met on the astral plane. Our souls met on the astral plane. How crazy is that?”

Kurt was too tired to reprimand Blaine for calling him little. He just closed his eyes and repeated, “Crazy.”

“And then you showed up a few days later at my book signing and... Oh, Kurt.”

His face burned at the memory, of seeing Blaine and recognizing him at once, only to shove past the line of people waiting to meet him. To fall into his arms, crying.

Clinging to Blaine’s expensive satin shirt while tearing up in front of a crowd was a memory he would very much like to delete. It was made worse by the fact that Blaine remembered it so well too, because it was the first moment they ever met in real life, and the only time Kurt had ever cried in front of Blaine.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

And Blaine, holding him close and rubbing his back. Pulling him into the break room so no one else would see him break down.

“I know, baby. But I just want you to know I remember. And I-”

“Don’t you dare say anything fucking sappy-”

“I’ll look out for you,” Blaine interrupted, completely ignoring his wishes. “I won’t let you be lonely.”

He let Blaine’s deep voice wash over him as he closed his eyes. It was evidence of how tired he was that he just accepted it with a nod, scooching closer to bury his face in Blaine’s chest. For warmth, that was all. The room was cold and Blaine was warm.

“I’m scared of losing you.” “Losing me,” Kurt echoed. “Something bad happening to you.”

Kurt was on the verge of sleep, blearily blinking his eyes and trying to stay awake. The stress of the past few days mixed with the lack of rest was hitting him all at once and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and keep them closed. 

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen, babe. It’s okay.”

“My vision-”

“Nothing’s set in stone. We’ll work it out,” Kurt comforted, half asleep now. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.”

Blaine nodded slowly and closed his eyes, shuffling closer. Kurt closed his eyes too, encompassed by Blaine’s warmth, and that was the last thing he remembered before they both did what they were trying so hard to avoid and fell asleep.  
...

“Get out! Get out! Everyone OUT!”  
The cacophony of screaming melded into his dream, crackling like static on a TV. Kurt snuggled closer to the whatever was keeping him warm, because the sensation was pleasant even though he felt sweat accumulating on his chest and back, dripping down his neck.

“Jessie, GO! I’ll find them!” the voice called from that distant place, muffled beyond layers of fabric.

“Mmm,” Kurt hummed, rubbing his cheek on something warm and sturdy. Blaine’s chest.  
“Kurt?”

“Jus’ a minute...”

“Wait, Kurt, I think-”

Kurt could smell burnt popcorn. Who was making popcorn? He was pretty sure the house didn’t have a microwave. Maybe it was the kind made on the stove?

“Shit- Kurt, wake up, there’s a fire!”  
His eyes flashed open to see Blaine in his face, jostling his arms to wake him. The distant yelling was the sound of Tex telling them to evacuate.  
His heart pounded in his chest as they stumbled out of bed. There was no time to do anything but flee. Blaine yanked the door open and billows of smoke seeped into the room, making them both cough.

“We have to go!”

Blaine pulled him by the arm with haste, but Kurt banged his shoulder into the doorway and the link of their hands broke, leaving them stranded and alone, unable to see in the smoke.

“Crawl, we’re supposed to crawl,” Blaine croaked, and Kurt heard him thud to his knees.

But Kurt was already feeling dizzy, probably from the lack of oxygen which had been consumed by the fire. He couldn’t bring himself to get to his knees, but his did peak his eyes open to see the thick black smoke and something beyond it. A woman, a ghost, in full form wearing a victorian dress and intricate ribbons in her hair. Her image was much more translucent than the smoke which was nearly opaque and Kurt only caught a glimpse of her but he could feel her. And suddenly he knew what she was trying to tell him.

“I’m right behind you, Blaine, go!” Kurt called, and oh, was it a lie. He sunk to the floor by the doorframe of Charlotte’s room. This was how she died. This was how she died.

Blaine must’ve listened and thought Kurt was following him because he stumbled down the stairs and then Kurt didn’t hear him anymore. He trusted Blaine to get out of the house safely, but didn’t trust him to stay out once he realized Kurt was still inside.

Kurt had to do this, he had to. This was the whole reason why he was here. He realized with surprising stoicism that this was the reason why he’d been having visions of burning alive recently. He thought they were visions of Charlotte’s death but he had been wrong. He recognized the dark smoke and the ache in his shoulder from hitting the door and yes, those visions were of himself.  
Tears welled in his eyes and spilled over, not due to any emotion but because the smoke was so strong and burned his eyes. He had to keep them open because he had to look for Charlotte, he had to see. She was here and she was telling him something.

Journals. There were journals hidden somewhere in her room and Kurt needed to find them before the entire house burned down, turning the journals to ash.

Charlotte’s journals were the key to the case. They were what he and Blaine had been searching for all this time, albeit unknowingly. The stories of Joseph Thomas’ overprotectiveness and the men he killed, the bones buried in the backyard. Charlotte had written it all down and now she wanted someone to find it.

Kurt caught another glimpse of her but he couldn’t be sure if she was real or if the image of her and her flowing dress was just a delusion, a product of oxygen deprivation. His lungs quivered and burned with smoke but still he followed her into the room, to the wardrobe.

He dug through the wardrobe doors but there was nothing but old clothes, untouched since the nineteenth century. He rifled through each door, frustrated, as the house started falling down around him. There were loud noises, crashes, the sound of fire smoldering. The smoke smelled horrible. It burned his nose, eyes, and lungs. He imagined himself dying in the fire and had to close his eyes because no, that couldn’t happen, that absolutely couldn’t happen.

Charlotte was gone. She had led Kurt right to the place where her most important belongings were hidden and still Kurt couldn’t find them. And he was going to die here. He was going to die here, betraying Blaine and failing to help the souls of Ashland Ranch.

If he left now, he might’ve been able to make it out alive. But the entire purpose of Charlotte’s presence would be burned away. And he owed it to her to try.

The house was crumbling down around him. He rifled through the wardrobe again before checking  
under it, and then behind it. It was arduous to pull it from the wall. His strength just wasn’t there, but adrenaline ran through his veins. There was nothing behind the wardrobe except the wall.  
Stupidly, Kurt thought of the story Blaine told him last night. Tracing a willow tree on the wall. In his his carbon-monoxide induced insanity, Kurt traced the roots of a tree on the wall. There was really no reason for it. It just reminded him of Blaine, and thinking of Blaine was better to think about than thinking he was going to die.

Stupid Kurt, for tricking Blaine into leaving him behind. If he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t be dying right now.

He traced the shape of the tree once more, pressing his forehead against the wall. And then he felt something beneath his fingers, something cold despite the sweltering heat of a house on fire.  
And- oh. Of course it was in the fucking wall.  
He peeled back the wallpaper and jammed his fingers into the small crevice. Pieces of the wall crumbled away, old and tired of existing. He reached inside the hollow part of the wall, feeling eyes on him. Ghosts eyes.

His fingers bumped into a book, it’s pages old and crinkled. He grabbed it and searched for others. There were five in total. He pulled them all out, clutched them to his chest, and began to crawl.  
The smoke was thick and he had to get out of there. The fire was in the room now, spreading. He was going to die. He had seen it happen before. He had even dreamt about it, and Blaine had probably seen it too. That was why he was so worried. That was why he was so overprotective. That was why he demanded to come with Kurt to Tennessee in the first place. He was trying to prevent this exact thing from happening.

Kurt was almost to the stairs when the floor gave out and he fell through it. And then everything went hazy. Not like he was dying hazy, though he was dying, but like he was having a vision hazy. Distinctly, he thought, this is a horrible time to have a vision.

Sitting at the kitchen table, wearing flannel pajama pants and a sweater that was too big to be his. The sound of bacon sizzling, pancake batter mixed in a bowl, slicing strawberries on a cutting board. Whipped cream and cinnamon. Gazing out the window and seeing the ocean. Laughing at Blaine singing, but delighting in it too.

Blaine kissing him on his way to the table. Soft, sweet lips on his own. Looking down at his left hand and seeing a ring on his finger.

Kurt would’ve laughed if he wasn’t already having a hard time breathing. He came back to reality crumpled in a heap on the floor, surrounded by fire. He had just dropped ten feet from the floor above. Something must’ve been broken but he couldn’t feel anything, break or no break. Fire or no fire.  
If he didn’t move, he was going to die. But he didn’t have to die. He still had a future. A possibility, which included Blaine, because of course it did. A future that included eating breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning in their kitchen. Their kitchen.

Kurt really did laugh this time. He was going insane. He was also on the verge of dying due to smoke inhalation. Either that or the ceiling caving in on him. He really had to get out of here.

...  
After an indefinite amount of time spent in a burning building, the fresh air outside was a shock to his system. Cold and startlingly clear. The first breath he took resulted in an endless cough but still he stumbled forward.

There were flashing lights, and people lined up a safe distance from the building. Someone holding another person back, and that person breaking free, running towards Kurt.

Kurt met him partway and collapsed into his arms. His body went limp and he just let Blaine hold him. Through the sirens, the crackling fire, the house falling apart behind them. The flashing lights, the burning blaze, the moon high in the sky. The darkness. The journals still clutched to his chest.  
“You idiot. You absolute fucking idiot.”

Blaine was crying. Kurt coughed, and snuggled closer to his chest. Where the world smelled like smoldering fire, ashes, and smoke, Blaine smelled like earth.

People rushed up beside them but Blaine wouldn’t let him go. Kurt was fine with that; he didn’t want to leave the warmth of his embrace. The air was so cold around him.

“We have to get him to the hospital,” someone insisted. “Fine,” Kurt croaked, tugging at Blaine’s shirt. “‘M fine.”

“At least sit in the back of the ambulance,” Blaine whispered in his ear. He tried walking them backwards but Kurt was completely spent and limp in his arms, unable to move.

Exhaustion weighed him down, heavy in his bones. He stumbled, and then strong arms were grasping him around the torso and the backs of his knees and he was being lifted into the air, and the world swayed.

People swarmed around them as Blaine sat them in the back of the ambulance. Kurt was grateful because Blaine didn’t let him out from his arm, which felt protective and comforting. He was given an oxygen mask which he struggled to hold up to his face, so Blaine pressed it there with the hand that wasn’t busy stroking his shoulder.

The medics treated his minor burn wounds and cleared him for the time being. Kurt remained swathed under Blaine’s arm, oxygen mask pressed to his face as they both watched the house burn. The fire department didn’t get here in time and it was no use, now. The foundation was already burning, the entire thing up in flames. Tex stood watching it crumble, Jessie by his side.

Charlotte had hidden journals in the wall of her bedroom. There was no doubt they held evidence of her father’s misdeeds, a sort of historical proof that could solve multiple cold cases. Joseph Thomas was sexist even for his time in the way that he put women on a pedestal and would protect their purity to the death. He murdered at least seven men who threatened his family’s honor and buried them all in the garden.

Kurt would hand over the journals to the sheriff tomorrow and wash his hands of the case. He would take the next flight back to Chicago and then... And then what?

If Kurt wasn’t breathing oxygen from a mask he would tell Blaine about his vision. But he had a  
feeling Blaine already knew. He was always a few steps ahead of Kurt in terms of their relationship, always the one to initiate their monthly dinners and even fly out to where Kurt was when the distance between them seemed too great to overcome.  
Kurt wondered now how he thought Blaine didn’t care about him in that way. It wasn’t that he didn’t see it before, but that he chose to ignore it. The way Blaine cared for him freaked him out. Spending his whole life isolated from everyone around him, it felt like the only option to push Blaine away.

The sudden self-awareness was startling and Kurt tried not to think about it. One of the medics wrapped a blanket around him and then he pressed closer to Blaine for his warmth.

Blaine squeezed his shoulder and they met each other’s gaze for a moment. The flicker of the burning house reflected in Blaine’s eyes and they shared a silent moment of camaraderie and understanding. Then they both looked away, watching the fire instead. Kurt let his sight go blurry and unfocused, everything fading into the background.

There were secrets that lived inside the walls and those were the ones that Kurt and Blaine found. They searched for the truths that hid in dark quiet places. It wasn’t an easy occupation. It created a life full of leftover sorrow from spirits who still couldn’t put an end to their suffering, even in the afterlife.

Clairvoyance made it hard to function in reality, and it was worse off when he was alone because no one else understood him. But he had Blaine. Blaine had been with him for three years, ignoring Kurt’ stubborn attempts to reject his olive branch of friendship, and for once Kurt respected, admired, and even felt grateful for his tenacity.  
“I’m so fucking glad you’re alive,” Blaine said, eyes still on the fire. His voice was low and deep like sinking into a dream. “You don’t even know how many times I saw that ending differently. I dreamt about it every night.”

That was what Blaine had been trying to tell him this whole time, Kurt realized. All the warnings and overprotectiveness, the strict adherence to the rules... Obviously he was trying to keep him safe, Kurt was always aware of that. But what he hadn’t known was the extent to which Blaine had been foretelling his demise. He couldn’t image what that must’ve been like, seeing Kurt end up maimed or dead and not being able to do anything to stop it.  
Kurt pulled the mask away and tried to speak. He coughed and hacked and then gave up, letting Blaine help him put the mask back on. The pure oxygen was crisp compared to the smoke he had inhaled in mouthfuls back in the house. It felt soothing on his sore throat and raw lungs and he knew he would be feeling it for a while after this. But he was alive. He was alive.

Removing the mask, he tried again. He coughed and Blaine rubbed his back through the blanket. When he finally croaked the words out, his voice was hushed and raspy.

“It was because of you,” he forced out, nothing more than a whisper that would’ve been carried away in the wind if Blaine hadn’t been listening so intently, gaze caught on his face, all of his attention on him. “It was because of you, I-” he coughed, and wondered if he should say what came next.

“Take your time,” Blaine soothed, gentle and caring because yes, that’s what he was always like with Kurt when it came down to it, gentle and caring beneath all the fighting and the bickering and the annoying each other for the sake of pushing buttons. Gentle and caring even when he would squeeze Kurt’ wrists a little too tightly to make him shut up when he was being a brat.

Gentle and caring even when Kurt said he hated him and Blaine said it right back.

“I saw us together,” he managed through heavy pauses and breaths. He sounded like he had just chainsmoked for hours. “In a few years, just us...”  
Blaine’s eyes lit up with recognition and he pressed the mask back to Kurt’ face to give him more oxygen. It spoke well to the same wavelength they were on, that he knew what Kurt was talking about when his words were hardly coherent. “The house by the sea...”

They stared at each other until Blaine removed the mask for Kurt to speak. “Yeah,” Kurt agreed, blinking because stupidly he felt like he was going to cry. “You’ve seen it too?”

Soft fingers reached out to trace his jaw and rub his cheek as Blaine nodded. “I saw it after I visited you in Chicago for the first time. When I stayed the night at your place.”

That was so long ago, before they hardly knew each other like they did now. They clicked right away though, not in a way that meant getting along, but in a way that meant not being afraid to insult each other and bicker constantly.

The first time Blaine visited him in Chicago was only half a year after they first met, and they had only seen each other a handful of times since then. They cooked homemade pizza in Kurt’ apartment’s small oven and ended up drinking enough wine to make it necessary for Blaine to spend the night on his couch.

When Kurt woke up late the next morning he found Blaine half naked and exiting Kurt’ shower, smelling of his cocoa butter body wash.

“The rings,” Kurt said, remembering.  
At that, Blaine grinned, sliding his thumb over Kurt’ bottom lip. Clearly he had seen that vision before, and his feelings about it were clear with the way he was smiling, bright light a beacon in the darkness. “Is that something you want?”

Were they really talking about marriage two days after they first kissed? Yes, yes they were. “Someday,” Kurt rasped, because he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but honest.

Blaine kissed him softly on the lips. It was chaste enough that it wasn’t damaging to his breathing, although the simple touch did make his heart stutter, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.  
“Someday,” he agreed, a promise of sorts. Kurt could still see it in his mind, the house by the sea. Opening the windows and hearing the waves crashing against the shore, smelling the salt in the air.

He imagined curling up on the couch and watching an incoming storm with Blaine, cozy and wrapped up in each other, safe from the elements outside. It would be a nice reprieve from the cases they would work on together, because clairvoyance was a part of who they were and there was no way they’d be able to give it up, no way either one of them would ever stop working cases, stop trying to help people.

The world was chaos around them, the house still burning and the firefighters not being able to do anything about it. It was collapsing in front of their eyes, two hundred years of history burned to ash.  
“The journals,” Kurt said, because that was all he could manage.

“I know. We’ll give them to the sheriff. You shouldn’t have gone back for them.”  
“I saved Charlotte from burning again.” She had finally been released to the afterlife, no earthly wiles tying her down to the property anymore. She had been liberated, turned transcendent.  
Blaine stayed quiet but kept his eyes on Kurt. Through the mayhem, they were in their own little world, wrapped up in each other. Sheltered from it all.

“Come back to Salem with me,” Blaine said, running his fingers over Kurt’ cheek again.  
Kurt listened to the sirens and the crackling fire and beneath it all the undertrack of crickets and frogs and the wind. A melody of nighttime sounds that would forever remind him of the short time spent in Sweetwater, sleeping with the windows open and getting to know Blaine. Finding each other.

He thought about going back to his own apartment, his empty bed. He thought about going back to his big city where no one knew his name, where he could walk anonymously on the streets. It had felt empowering when he first moved there but lately it had been feeling lonely. And then there was Salem, with Blaine.

He leaned into him, relaxing into his side as Blaine wrapped both arms around him to keep him close. With his face against Blaine’s chest he could hear his soothing heartbeat and his slow, steady breathing. “Okay,” he said, hoarse and muffled by his shirt which smelled like smoke.  
Blaine tapped his fingertips on Kurt’ back in a rhythmic pattern and buried his face in his hair. The sirens continued and the house burned and they held each other through it all, the sirens blaring, the people racing around, the world falling apart.

Tomorrow night they would be in Salem, crawling into Blaine’s bed after eating takeout and fucking in the shower.

Three years from now they would be moving into their new home and engaged to be married, making love on the floor before the bed was set up and talking and laughing all through the night.  
And everything would be okay.


End file.
